


Frost Fire

by JoyousRivers



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alyse Massey and Stannis Baratheon married, Dany has adoptive parents, F/M, Gendry and Shireen are Stannis' kids, Good Stannis but isn't that like regular Stannis, I'm not sure what to do with Viserys yet but Good Viserys, Jon doesn't grow up in winterfell, Jon has a mother, Jon is not a bastard, No White Walkers, first fic, freefolk Dany
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-09-22
Updated: 2020-02-01
Packaged: 2020-10-25 18:57:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 32,987
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20729156
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JoyousRivers/pseuds/JoyousRivers
Summary: "A good play has heroes, villains and princesses to save."Puppet-masters pull at their strings, chaos is unleashed, and dragons rise from across the narrow sea threatening the already fragile peace of  Westeros.





	1. Grief and Duty

LYANNA (on a boat to Essos)

This was her son, her boy. She couldn’t wrap her head around it, around him. As the noises of harbour faded into the distance all she could do was admire him, his eyes, his hair, his nose and the way his fists held her garment. He was scared to let go, just as much as she was. 

His face scrunched as her tears wet his cheeks. With twisted mouth, he gave a loud cry and she watched him. Her blood, Their son. Aemon She opened her top and fed him her breast as she continued her silent weeping for all she had lost, all that led her here. 

STANNIS (on dragonstone)

Stannis had taken the Rock, the dragon’s men had no chance. The storm that raged for a week had left them with all but naught. Some men knelt and others died, that was not his concern. Robert had demanded the remaining dragon spawns, he was to deliver them. The castle was monstrous as it was beautiful, the dragons saw to that. As his men led the way into the inner rooms, the dragon’s men fell in line around them, watching with hate, pride, but mostly fear in theirs eyes. 

It was upon getting to the queen that he realised why. The room smelt like death and life intertwined, it choked him and yet his heart felt light. A newborn dragon and a dying dragon, a girl it seemed, not an heir to the throne but still a threat to Robert. He felt at the mouth of a volcano, though the embers of the furnace were fading, this heat was a mother dragon fighting death, burning to stay alive for her babe. 

“My son is gone,'' she croaked, her countenance and eyes were dry, “ House targaryen has not seen its end stag”. She coughed, heaving and fading and yet with the last burning ember of fire she possessed in her soul, Stannis was sure that she could burn the entire castle down. Maybe she is as mad as her husband and son were. He didn’t think so, she felt familiar or at least her grief did. It was the kind of grief that could be mistaken for anger and burnt as bright as anger did but it hurts twice as much. “No harm will come to your daughter, Your Grace,”he said, wait what was he saying?. She scoffed and her eyes rolled to the back of her skull, he didn’t think it was a voluntary action . “ I have shared this grief and I know it like I know myself, Robert will not touch her,'' he elaborated. His heart beating wildly, this wasn’t part of the plan.

She said nothing but her eyes danced on his frame, from his face to the pommel of the sword in his palm. Her eyes seemed to close for longer periods now, she was on the edge of this life and the next. She opened them again and they shone with tears as she spoke, “ I don’t believe that your brother won’t, but you must protect her. We are family through Rhaelle Lord Baratheon, protect your family. Name her, Daenerys ”. And with that, she crossed over to the next realm, with the babe to her chest, undoubtedly hearing the fading of a beating heart. The room was cold again, like death still dwelled there, watching to see if he would honor her request.


	2. Of love and Duty

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We see what's happening in Westeros.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Every chapter till I say so, is a precursor to the beginning of Game of thrones Season 1 and Episode 1. Just trying to flesh things out.

STANNIS 

The handmaidens of the late queen were in the room, brushing her hair and fixing her dress. It had been three days since she passed, the smell of death had scarcely lifted. He felt like a child again, hearing Robert speak on the death of mother and father. It hurt then and it hurt now, what gods would allow such? 

On the first night, a lady by the name of Molly cam forward as a nurse maid for the little princess. And did so while her own babe slept. He had watched her feed the first day, taking hungry gulps whilst holding on to the woman’s teat with all her strength. They discovered that night, that the child would not sleep unless she felt a heartbeat. She was doted on by the handmaidens and the dragon’s men that would grace her nursery. Some of them never left the room, when he was there.

_Fools, I could hold her little nose and end her life right in your presence and nothing would be done. I would be rewarded. I would have done my duty._

He looked away from the ocean, to Alyse, or at least that’s what he thought her name was, playing with her feet, humming. It took nothing to love her, a sweet child she was but Stannis had refused to hold her. How could he? His duty was to bring her to his brother and yet, their shared grief held him by the heart each night. 

Would she had been a plain child, he would keep her. Give her to a Castellan of a small castle near his residence to look after. It would be an easy thing to do though it would not keep her far from Robert. But this babe was the blood of the dragon, with hair that gleamed in sunlight and starlight alike and skin that was white and soft as snow. Her eyes, he loved the most, like soft violet gems. They twinkled when she smiled. 

  
He could send her across the sea, but Robert would find her, his brother wouldn’t stop and a child on the run was not safe. He could also take her to Dorne, but would it save her from Robert and Tywin? How would he get to Dorne without alerting his brother of his precious cargo? Would they kill him on sight, for the deaths of their monarchs, their Princess and her children? 

  
Another thorn that nagged at his side, was that he had yet to send a report of the castle to Robert. _Curse the dragon for leaving her whelp with me._ He wasn’t sure he was going to anytime soon, at least until he decided what to do with the princess. A burp broke his train of thought, as the babe was held out to him by Alyse. He stared at the woman asking, “What does it want?”. “To be held my Lord”, she answered in a thin voice, “to be safe and to live. If you are going to kill her for your brother, the very least you could do is hold her”, Alyse all but demanded. He should be cross and have her tongue for this, this insolence. He really should. 

  


EDDARD (The Red Keep)

  


_Lya, where are you?_

“Did you find her”, Lord Arryn asked, walking up to him whilst looking around them. _What is he watching for?_ “I think Lord Lannister hopes to get a betrothal with Robert, he’s a king now and it would make young Cersei a queen,’ He continued, as they walked shoulder to shoulder across the halls. The portraits of Targaryen’s past had been stripped off the walls and before them now, men heaved and pushed to move the dragon skulls away.

_Talk of a queen drew his mind to Catelyn in Winterfell, with his son. She was Brandon’s, it all was. He only wanted a head of dark hair, with stars for eyes. _

“He still wants to marry Lyanna”, Lord Arryn spoke, breaking Ned from his reverie, he turned to his second father looking at him like he had grown two heads. “Well I didn’t find her”, He huffed, “neither her nor the kings guard”. Lord Arryn said nothing in reply, but Ned understood that the old man came to the same conclusion.

“I’ll ask for leave of the king to send some northern men across the seas for her, I need to find my sister,'' Ned said, after a beat, avoiding the man’s searching eyes, even to his ears he sounded like he was trying to convince himself of something already known. “And if she has a child, a child for Rhaegar”, the old Falcon probed much to Ned’s dismay. He said nothing in reply, choosing to walk away from the conversation.

_Robert would not harm his blood, he wouldn’t harm Lya’s child. Would he? _

A week had passed since that conversation and Ned realized that he had been wrong, Robert would kill his nephew or niece if the child was borne of Rhaegar’s seed. As he watched the man that wore his friend’s face, laugh at a letter on the affairs of Dragon-Stone.

“Lucky child to not be born”, Robert said, as he handed Ned the letter, “would have killed the dragon spawn. Good use for my hammer.”

“The prince is still a problem, Your Grace”, Lord Tywin flatly said, his fingers lightly tapping the table, “And we don’t where he could be in all of Essos.” “Any ideas, Spider”, Lord Lannister asked, turning their attention to the bald eunuch at the end of the table that always smelt too sweet for Ned’s liking.

“None, my Lord”, he replied in a smooth voice, “my little birds have yet to report anything on Prince Viserys’s escape.” He looked at Ned for a moment and spoke again, “Though they sing about Lady Lyanna.”

The room fell silent with the eyes of its occupants on Ned and Robert.

“Well speak up eunuch, we don’t have all day.”, Robert roared, “Where is my Lady?”

Bowing his head with a soft voice, he said carefully, “they sing that she has passed, Your Grace, my condolences.”

His eyes burned, the room blurred, and he swayed on his feet into darkness.

STANNIS (on Dragon Stone)

_He woke up in a room, as scant as the bed he lay on. There was a single candle by the bed flickering on and off, taunting him with darkness. It was off now, the longest it had been, and he stared at it willing it to flicker on. The door creaked open, he didn’t move waiting for anyone or anything to come in. When that was for naught, he rose from the bed and the candle flickered on. Grabbed it and walked out of the room. He entered a dark hallway that seemed to go on, the candle he had scarcely lit the path before him. He hoped he wouldn’t fall_

_He had been walking for some time when he heard the coos of a babe. He turned to see the red door of the nursery and opened it. It was the same big room, but it was empty save for the rocking chair at the corner. It had a window and Stannis rushed to it, in hopes of finding out where the hell he was. Looking out all he could see was snow. _

_The creaking of the rocking chair shook him out of his thoughts as he turned slowly to see little Daenerys in the arms of Alyse, she was smiling at the child and playing with the loose locks of her silver hair_. _She was rewarded with a coo often._

_How long has he stood there? At a scene so beautiful._

_“Sorry milord”, Alyse softly spoke her not leaving the babe’s face, “She had a terror, never seen her so frightened. She’s okay now.”_

_“Can I hold her?”, he asked. _

_With a beaming smile, she nodded beckoning him closer and carefully lifting the little dragon into his arms. The first thing, Stannis felt was the heat the child was letting off. _

_“She’s burning hot. Does she have a fever?”, he asked. Looking up to Alyse, he realized that she had changed form and sat before him was Rhaella Targaryen_

_“No, she is the blood of the dragon_”, _Rhaella replied laughing._

_It would have been strange enough already without a dragon’s roar sounding in place of the former queen’s laugh._

He woke up with a start and heart pounding like a beating drum. When his breathing calmed, he could hear cooing from the nursery adjoined to his room. But he would not rise in fear of who might be making the child coo. 

The morning came, and he was in the room of the painted table watching the ships get loaded. Robert had permitted him to ship the men that bent the knee to the Wall, there they would serve the Night’s Watch. A small sneeze brought his attention to the little dragon in his arms. He set her on the table, watching as she rolled on her back, stretching her fat arms to pick up the tiny castles before putting to put them in her mouth. He collected the Dread fort before she drowned the Boltons in slobber, and to his dismay her mouth twisted, and she began to cry. He hurriedly moved to return the castle, but she threw it away angry and cried harder.

Alyse entered the room, staring at him and with gritted teeth asked, “what did you do my Lord?”. He owed her no reply and gave none, proceeding to hand Daenerys to her. The crying had stopped when Alyse inquired with her cocked head, “What are you going to do with her, Lord Baratheon?”, it wasn’t right the manner she’d talk to him, but Stannis knew correcting her would be void. Alyse was purposeful.

“I don’t know”, he answered, refusing to meet her eyes staring instead at the men that pushed carts of provision for their journey North, “I don’t want to hurt her that much I know.”

“I can take her across the seas”, Alyse answered, too eagerly for Stannis’s liking. “You shan’t, not unless I will it. Do you think she is any safer across the seas?”, He asked this time turning to stare the woman in the eyes, they were misty, and her bottom lip shook though her spine remained straight. She looked ready to refute him, so he softly elaborated, “He would find her easily, the spider has more eyes across the seas than on the continent.”

“What do we do then?”, She begged, fat tears now flowing freely from her eyes as she clutched the sleeping babe to her chest. He felt for her then, they had both grown close to the little dragon, and to his dismay each other. Reaching to hold her hand, he answered, “I will do her no harm, my Lady and I assure you neither would my brother, as far as he is concerned, she is a still-birth that never took a breath.” Her eyes widened dumbfounded and he hoped to scurry away, before his abandonment of duty needled him further. “I’ll come with you wherever you take her”, she said. It wasn’t a question and he nodded in understanding. 

The sun set on him on the ship, with the lady Alyse by his side rocking the little dragon to sleep.

CERSEI (The Red Keep)

It was beautiful, the red keep was beautiful. She remembered the last time she had been here, sitting and listening to Rhaegar play his harp, beautifully as always. Rhaegar was dead now, he stole that skinny wolf girl and raped her, maybe if the frail Martell girl had borne him more children, he’d still be alive. She couldn’t know that for sure, but she knew that if she had wed Rhaegar, they’d be happy in love together.

It mattered not now, they were all dead, but she remained, and she would be queen. The Lannister army had come in the nick of time to save the city backing the rebel army. Sweet Jaime had stuck a knife into the mad man’s back and thrown the gates open. Unfortunately, the princess and her children were causalities, unfortunate yet necessary. How would her children maintain their hold on the throne, if the dragons lived?

She watched Father and Jaime argue about his king’s guard vows, Jaime was adamant about forsake the cursed vow. It would have angered her, their back and forth bickering but all she could concern herself with was, her betrothed. She heard he was handsome and tall, built in ways Rhaegar had never been. She hoped to meet him soon, the nervousness in her belly would spill if she didn’t.

A man walked into the room bowing to her father and looking at her appraisingly. Men always looked at her like that, after all she was the most beautiful as they said. He informed them that the new King sent for them, leading the way to their destination. Walking the halls, she saw that the beautiful portraits that once graced it had been striped, the red brick was as bare inside and it was outside now.

_Her Dynasty would fix that, the halls would be full of her and her children in a century’s time. She promised herself._

She tugged on her dress, lowering the cleavage and flipped her hair to show her slim neck. Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed Jaime eyeing her hungrily like he oft did. There would be no time for that now, she was to wed a King.

Upon nearing the room, they were greeted to a shouting match that rang through the solar, between her King and the Stark dog.

“You cannot do that in her name”, the dog screamed, “You cannot kill innocent children in her name.” Her King replied with a greater anger, “No dragon spawn is innocent. They raped her and took her from me.”

_ Jaime told her of how Lord Stark sneered at him and called him an oath-breaker and king-slayer in the throne room. She did not like that; he was a wolf, but they were lions. His whore sister was the reason for the entire war in the first place. He should be on his knees thanking Jaime for the justice he served. _

_She was more beautiful that the Stark girl, she knew so_. _If he loved her, he would adore me. I live and she is nothing but food for the worms under my feet_.

She could scarcely hear them anymore and that made her squirm on her seat with anticipation.

“Enough Ned, leave if you don’t have what it takes to get justice for your family”, her King shouted at the dog, storming out to greet them. He was the warrior in the flesh, built like a King should be with midnight hair and sea blue eyes. Cersei could do nothing but stare at him, while father discussed their betrothal. A beautiful queen for a beautiful king.

ALYSE (2 moons left till the Wall)

The babe was three moons old now, still small and wonderful but growing bigger every day. Lord Baratheon had kept them in a secluded part of the ship for people could not find out about their little dragon. 

_They would hurt her if they did. An innocent babe. _

Lord Baratheon spent most of his day away from them, but he always came to see her at nightfall. Alyse could see through him now, while on Dragon Stone she feared for Daenerys’s safety, he was a different man now.

_Or perhaps the man that was underneath his surface. _

He would play with her, blow on her belly and kiss her feet and in turn she would tug on hair and one time poke him in the eye. It was a warm sight, one both man and child deserved. And dare she say, she too.

MAESTER AEMON

_He woke that morning as any other these past days, troubled. News had reached the wall a fortnight ago, that the realm had been thrown into chaos. Rhaegar had kidnapped a stark girl and his father had burned the girl’s father and brother in the Red Keep when they sought justice. Aemon didn’t want to believe it, but who could truly know the heart of a man. Although he lacked any faith in gods, he prayed every day selfishly, for the safety of his family. Feeling useless on the other side of the country, wishing he were Aemon the Dragon Knight, instead of the Maester. _

_Days passed until they received more news that broke whatever was left of his spirit. Rhaegar was dead, his father was dead, and his family had been murdered by a king’s guard. The Lord commander was a kind man, seeing him in his solar to deliver the news. He wept like a child, without shame and his friend comforted him. But he wanted no comfort, he wanted to rage and destroy all that harmed his loved ones. But he had chosen duty over love and this was just another test to his vows. If there were gods, they were truly cruel._

_His hope roused on news that the Queen mother lived on Dragonstone but that was destroyed soon enough as she too was dead. Her son, Prince Viserys, escaped though and Aemon prayed night and day for his survival. _

It was getting harder to go on, he had chosen duty but he couldn’t live with the aftermath of the choice. The Lord Commander had requested for him this morning. Upon leaving his quarters, he saw the men that had fought on his family’s side walking to their quarters.

_The newest members of the night’s watch. _

Upon entering the solar, he was met with a young lady holding a bundle beside her sat Stannis Baratheon. 

_The man that broke his family. Does he think I’m a threat to his brother’s <strike>stolen </strike>throne?_

He sat on the chair facing the man choosing to stare into his eyes.

_A dragon is a dragon even when trapped in ice. _

To the man’s credit, he neither quivered nor looked away and met his stare. Ceasing only when the Lord Commander walked into the room and sat beside Aemon.

“Maester Aemon has served the Night’s Watch faithfully for decades. He is not threat to your brother’s throne because he is an old man that said his vows an eternity ago.”, the Bear said, in a voice that would dissuade any questioning.

_His heart warmed with his good friend’s proclamation. _

“I know this, Mormont. I’m no fool”, Lord Baratheon sneered, turning to face him, his countenance softened, as he spoke, “I just thought there was someone you’d like to see.”

_Who? _

He turned to the Bear for an explanation and the man shrugged.

The lady with the bundle cleared her throat and spoke, “This is Daenerys Stormborn of House Targaryen, daughter of Rhaella Targaryen and Aerys Targaryen.”

He stood and took the bundle from the lady, moving the clothe from her face, to see a most wonderous babe. Her skin was soft, her hair silver-gold and eyes a bright flowery violet. She looked up at him and slowly blinked and he held her to his heart and wept.

He decided he would never let her go. “You can’t have her”, he croaked with a voice tired from weeping. Lord Baratheon said nothing but looked at him with eyes full of remorse.

“Aemon”, Mormont said, “she can’t stay here, this is no place for a child. A girl child less.”

They could all talk, but he wouldn’t listen.

_Would that I learnt to wield a sword? I would lay my life down gladly for hers. _

“What plans do you have for her?”, He asked watching the babe suck on his forefinger. “Beyond the wall”, the Baratheon spoke with a gruff voice and misty eyes. “That’s the only place she can be safe”

“You would send my niece to the free-folk!”, He spat with a terrible anger, the dragon within was awake.

“On my honor, I accepted the request laid to me by the late Queen to keep her far away from Robert and that’s what I will do”, the Lord replied with the same anger directed at him, “and nothing more.”

“Protect her from Robert but give her to savages”, he finished to the proud Lord dismay. “That’s the last place anyone would ever hope to check”, Baratheon remarked solemnly looking away.

Aemon as old and wise as he was, felt a fool. Caught up in his own emotions that he ignored what was before him. The babe was about five moons old, the Lord and Lady had clearly bonded with her. It hurt them also to let her go.

“How do we do that?”, the Lord Commander queried whilst looking at him. “I’ll go with her”, he replied looking at a table of astonished faces, “She’s my family, I will not leave her alone beyond the wall.”

“What about your duty to the realm Maester? The vows you swore.”, Lord Baratheon demanded.

_It was rich of this man to remind him of duty, but Aemon held his tongue. His betrayal of duty was the reason the babe in him arms lived._

‘My duty is to love”, he replied placing a kiss on the babe’s head and cursing the gods.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry if the characters seem OOC, I'm writing from an emotional standpoint for everyone. Last I read the books was 2 years ago and I am squeamish, so I barely watched the show save for a few scenes. Please do leave comments. They are always appreciated.


	3. Across the Narrow sea

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We see what the dragons across the narrow sea have been up too.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was my hardest chapter so far because a lot of characters (Lyanna, all the knights, and Viserys) that make an appearance are either dead or without POVs in Canon. So it was difficult to create a personality profile for them, but I tried using wiki. Hope you enjoy it.

Ser Willem Darry.

_All hope was lost on Dragon Stone in the span of a week. It started with the news of the death of his brother and the Crowned Prince on the Trident by the usurper, the news set the Queen Mother into labor. Followed closely by the news of the death of the King, by the hand of the Lannister brat on the King’s guard. And finally, scouts had spotted ships with Stag sails headed their way. They’d reach the island in a fortnight._

_The Queen Mother called him privately then, she looked weak, drenched in sweat, and soaked in blood charging him to take the Prince Viserys across the narrow seas. The Prince who was in the room holding her hand and weeping, refused to go alone and begged for her to join them._

_He argued on the side of the Prince then, for the both mother and son to be shipped across the seas, but the look in her eyes confirmed that she knew her death loomed close. And worse, she had made peace with it. The Prince did not however let up, and she so called for the room to be cleared. _

_After some time, he was called back in with a handmaiden of hers, Lady Alyse Massey of Stone Dance. There he was given funds for the trip and told to not stay in one for too long. After that, he and the boy left the birthing chamber. The lad did not look back even as the screaming of his mother continued as she tried to bring her child into the world, but even in the dark halls of Dragon Stone, Willem could hear his soft sniffling_.

It took three moons to get to Braavos and Willem was already tired of constantly looking behind, he felt lost. During the journey both knight and Prince kept to themselves as they were both mourning after all. Willem could not bring himself to strike up a conversation with the lad.

It was nightfall when they docked in Braavos, he thanked the seven for their cloaks as it kept the cool air out. The Prince was swaying on his feet, his eyes heavy lidded.

_The poor lad had been pushed to the limit, these past moons. From scarce food on the boat, to the sleeping conditions and the nightmares he denied having. Not fitting for the last scion of blood of Old Valyria._

He lifted the boy to his chest, his eyes searching for an inn even just for the night. He passed some that were adequate but would be difficult to escape from, if the morn brought knives from the usurper. He came across one that seemed good enough, the _Rhoyne’s Daughters_, he entered with his arms and legs aching as the sweet boy slept.

Lyanna

Aemon was playing with Ser Arthur; the knight and his brother loved the boy. Ser Arthur had mentioned when he was born that, he had Rhaegar’s eyes, dark as night but indigo in moonlight. They had first docked in Lorath, and spent a moon figuring out a path to Pentos where Ser Arthur’s sister, Lady Ashara, would aid them.

She was anxious to meet Ashara Dayne, she knew Brandon and Ned claimed to love her though from what Howland had told her, the lady chose Ned. But most of all, Lady Ashara was a friend of Princess Elia, the woman who was her husband’s first wife. She wondered what the Lady would think of her, and in extension her babe.

_It was at the Tower of Joy that news of Rhaegar’s death and that of his <strike>their</strike> family had reached them, through a young man coming back from the battle. Of the Princess’s rape and murder by the hand of the Lannister men, Rhaenys’ stabbing half a million times and Aegon’s head dashed against the wall. _

_Ser Gerold’s quick thinking might be the only reason they were all alive, while his brothers suggested to stay at the tower and wait for a confirmation of the news. Whether they were led by foolishness or grief, she did not know. The White Bull pressed on them the importance of protecting their Prince, Rhaegar’s last living heir. And in no time, they were off, soon though they faced bandits who were really soldiers bleeding off the war she and Rhaegar had caused. The White Bull was injured and died the night after the ordeal, he was buried at dawn as they left for the harbor. _

When they reached Lorath, they heard that Dragon-Stone had been attacked by Robert’s brother, the queen mother was dead and her child still-born though Prince Viserys was not mentioned.

_She prayed to the gods that he lived. Aemon would need a friend and so would the young boy._

That was the night she heard Ser Arthur cry for the first time and though she wanted to comfort him, she had her own tears to shed. Rhaegar had saved her from his mad father’s wrath and together they doomed the continent and the ones they loved. 

_Father and Brandon died for her. She…_

A hard yank of her hair pulled her out of the doomed thoughts. It was Aemon and he was hungry_. _Ser Arthur shuffled on his feet, did a quick bow and left her to feed the hungry babe. *

They docked in Braavos, a week after, for supplies. It would take a day to load the vessel so, with their cloaks and head covered and by the captains leave, they went exploring the richest of the free cities. Braavos was bloody hot, and the air was a truly terrible combination of flowers that smelled too sweet, baked foods that smelled rotten, and horse dung.

_Horses, Winter, Snow, and Winterfell. Would she ever go back? Could she? Ser Arthur had said that the continent thought her dead but still She longed to see Ned and Benjen again, and if she could, she’d beg at their feet. She would visit the crypts and beg for father and Brandon’s mercy. Old Nan and Hodor’s too for they surely missed her so. She missed them all, but it hurt too much to dwell on. _

As if sensing her distress, Ser Oswell turned to present her a garland of flowers, he received from a shopkeeper. They smelled too sweet, but she appreciated the gesture and kept them in her cloak. They walked for some time, avoiding haggling merchants and open spaces lest they been spotted.

_After what happened to Aegon and Rhaenys, she knew Aemon could never be safe from the wrath of Robert and Lord Lannister. Her brother’s friend and her former betrothed would gladly kill her son, she was sure of it. _

They got to an inn named the,_ Rhoyne’s Daughters _and Lyanna purchased clothes for herself and Aemon alongside food for the evening, meals of wheat and spiced beef with some honeyed cakes. The kindly woman that ran the inn included a jug of spiced wine for the knights after they settled a brawl between a fisherman and a pompous noble’s son.

_Though she saw the woman's eyes rove on Ser Arthur form once or twice before then. _

They sat at the corner of the inn, Lyanna noticed it was closest to the door, and ate their meal.

Ser Willem Darry.

When he woke, the sun was in the sky meaning it was noon then and they had slept longer than anticipated. A pleasure but a luxury that they could not afford. He was not surprised that the prince still slept, the boy had woken up before at twilight, in tears asking for his mother and only slept after two cups of honeyed water.

_They would need to leave soon. Staying in one place of too long was a danger._

Carefully, he dressed for the market and locked the room as he left. He was very anxious to leave the prince alone, but this had to be done. They both needed better garments, the weather would only get worse though he didn’t know where next they could go.

_Are we to move around the free cities until the usurper or the Old Lion dies? Even after then, the boy will be watching his back for the rest of his life. _

The marker was daunting, different stalls sold different wares and menacing merchants did all they could do to sell they wares and proceed to haggle like bastards once you chose. _I thought life was easier in Essos. _He begrudgingly bought what was sold as he was anxious to leave the prince alone for too long. _Already his stomach was sinking, and he was filling with worry._

Entering the inn, he bought some more food and honeyed water and headed to the room. He stopped in his tracks when he heard a familiar laughter, he tried to ignore it, but he heard it again. He itched to see who it was, and gods be good, sitting at the corner of the inn by the door was the sword of the morning with a babe in hand and a woman by his side.

_Is that his woman? _

He stalked slowly to the table in the hopes of catching some of the conversation before making himself know. He was only a hair’s breadth away, when a firm hand and steel to his neck stopped him. “Did the usurper send you cretin?”, the owner of the voice asked, which he recognized immediately as Ser Oswell. “No, Ser Oswell”, he replied, turning his head ever slowly to meet the knight’s eyes, at which a smile broke on his face. “I serve House Targaryen only ser”, he said, “till death.”

Ser Oswell smiled back and pat his back, leading him to the table, where Ser Arthur sat with the Prince’s last child with Lady Lyanna Stark. _As he was told. _He was shocked and was sure that his face showed it but before they could speak further, he invited them to the room in his name. _They needed to be careful, a crowded inn it was but walls have ears._

Upon getting to the room, he introduced the Prince to his new companions and the young lad greeting all amicably except the lady. His face twisted upon hearing her name, surely as shocked, but before he could rain fire and blood on her, Ser Arthur explained to them how things came to be.

_By the gods, Prince Rhaegar had crowned and married the girl, fathering a son on her. A king for House Targaryen. He was full of joy_

It didn’t placate the boy though, “You’re a whore”, he screamed at the lady, “it’s your fault that mother’s dead, father, Aegon and Rhaenys too.” The lady showed no emotion, her face hard and difficult to read until the Prince turned his ire to her child. “Your bastard is no true Targaryen with his dull hair and eyes on his horse face”, he spat.

She snarled at him, features becoming that of a wolf’s, “Aemon is from the loins of Prince Rhaegar, your brother and your King, and he is your rightful King.” The Prince looked primed to argue but Ser Arthur dissuaded him firmly, repeating what the <strike>Lady</strike> Princess Lyanna had said.

The boy was still displeased but thankfully held his tongue. The companions shared their plans with them, inviting him and the Prince join then in Pentos. He agreed without as much as a thought.

_Not like they had much of a choice, where were they meant to live?_

Ser Oswell left shortly to rent another room for the Princess Lyanna, as all stayed at the inn for the night. And the sun rose the next morning, to all of them on the merchant vessel heading to Pentos. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter might be the last before Season 1 Episode 1. I am both anxious and excited cause I really don't know where this story is going yet. I'm just going with it. Please leave comments kindly. <3


	4. Weddings and Appointments

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kings Landing and things beyond the wall. Was meant to be a longer chapter, turned into a two part instead.

WESTEROS

**Maester Aemon**

Alone in his study he looked at maps of known wilding villages with a proximity to the wall. Though the Lord Commander, Lord Stannis, and Lady Alyse had agreed to his plan, their agreement did not come without stipulations.

He would stay close, so that a trusted brother could bring food, medicine, and clothing to them regularly. It sounded silly to him, what would the wildings think?

_It wouldn’t be fair and such activities would surely garner unwanted attention defeating the aim of hiding the babe beyond the wall. Yet, Lord Stannis relented not on it. _

The Lord Commander raised the same concern and decided that the supplies would be taken to Craster’s Keep. Home to an old aid of the Night’s Watch.

_ Craster was more than that though. _Aemon shivered at the thought of finally being able to put a face to the wicked name, he would never go to his keep with Daenerys. The man was sick enough.

At least, the Night’s Watch would gain from this. Lord Stannis promised to discuss with the King and Lord Stark over maintenance of the order.

While he searched for more maps in the library, the Lord commander walked in. The Old bear sat at the table and poured himself some wine and sounded like he was thinking out loud. On getting to the table, he realized that Old Mormont was holding Daenerys.

_She had been given to Lady Alyse, a few hours ago. She was hungry and oh, what a cry she gave, a true dragon screaming for her meal. It made him laugh and for a moment his laughter stopped her crying, as she stared at him queerly._

“I see she’s charmed you too.” Aemon spoke watching his fearsome friend have a conversation with the babe. He would whisper to her and when she’d she babbled back, he’d laugh like they shared some jape. 

“Is it possible to remain uncharmed?” Mormont pondered, as he tickled her nose. She sneezed and reached for the man’s shaggy beard, but he avoided her hands.

_Good, he had learned. She’s probably yanked his beard one too many times. _

“No, it’s not”

“I’m sorry to leave you old friend. I truly thought I’d take my last breath at the wall.”

“I understand Aemon” he admitted somber.

“you’re no green boy running away for a good rump. Or to avoid responsibilities. You chose once and you’re choosing again.”

“I chose duty once and in my mind’s eye my brother’s smile and my lover’s face are as real as you right now” Aemon stated collecting the babe.

“but for her, Mormont, the feel of this newborn babe in my hands. Duty did not stand a chance.”

“I know friend. I know”, the Lord commander admitted walking out of the study, not before kissing the babe.

Aemon thought he saw tears in his eyes.

**Ned**

Awake and staring at the ceiling, all Ned could think on was family. A dead mother, murdered brother and father, and a dead sister. All that’s left now of his family was Benjen, his wife and his son.

_Kidnapped and raped. Beautiful, willful, and dead before her time. _

He would never see her again, they’d never ride horses together, and get in snow fights with Benjen and Brandon.

And yet, all the pain in his heart could not cause him to wish ill for the Targaryen prince as the King did.

The King had been in the room when he came to, cursing and promising death of the last Targaryen child, for Lyanna and House Stark. With the aid of Faceless men or men in the dark with pointed knifes or even his own Warhammer, that was used to end Rhaegar, he promised justice sharing plans he had to cross the narrow sea in search of the child. 

_But it wasn’t justice, it was vengeance. Vengeance against a child that did nothing wrong to Brandon, to Father or to Lyanna. The ones that did were dead. The mad dragons._

Rodrick Cassel had visited him after the incident worrying for his safety. The man claimed that the King was so irate that the keep shook with his roars. Ned assured him that nothing would harm him and his household but urged him to prepare the return to Winterfell. They’d leave upon the maester’s declaration of hid better health.

He needed to mourn in the keep of wolves surrounded by snow with air smelling of red sap from the weirwood trees. The heat and stench of the capital would not do, and neither would the lions that lurked about.

_He trusted none of them from Ser Jaime the King-slayer to his Lord Father, who had betrayed his best friend. He was even unsure about the queen to be although he knew her not. She seemed haughty and cold but what did he expect from a Lannister._

“Lord Arryn is without, Lord Stark” a servant, with rusty gold hair and swamp green eyes, announced, to which Ned’s only reply was a nod.

_ A Lannister most like, of a lesser branch perhaps for Lannisport._

Before the servant could leave, Lord Arryn rushed in, “What’s this I hear about you leaving for Winterfell Eddard?”, he queried with a face almost as red as the keep.

“Is that a Lannister?”, Ned asked when the servant had left.

“A cousin of one of Lord Tywin’s lesser known relatives in Lannisport.”, the old falcon replied flippantly. Staring at him, he moved closer.

“You have yet to answer me Eddard.”

“Isn’t it a bit too early for the Old Lion to sink his claws into Robert?”, Ned posed with a cocked head and narrowed eyes, as he continued to ignore the question posed.

“Cersei Lannister is to be wed to Robert in a moon’s turn. Her family’s King’s Landing for the celebration and some requested work, to which Robert granted.” Lord Arryn assured, taking a seat and feeling Ned’s temple.

_Power attracts Lions, they betrayed the Dragons for the Stag. They’ll have Robert in strings soon. Surely you can see what’s happening. _

“Your fever has broken, surely. Soon the Maester will grant you hale. You should stay for your Robert’s wedding and coronation, at least for a show of a unified continent under the Stag, the Wolf, and the Lion.” he chided, now obviously cross with Ned’s attitude.

“The Lion that murdered the dragon’s whelps needlessly, and the blood-thirsty Stag that calls for the death of child in the name of justice.”, Ned bellowed angry.

The man had naught to reply though he looked sad. There was truth in the falcon’s words though.

_People are tired of war and a semblance of peace would go a long way._

“I will stay for the wedding but not the coronation, Lord Arryn, I hope the King can understand. I have been from Winterfell too long, my wife and son, my brother and the North need me more than the capital does.” he relented.

“I will bend the knee and be on my way.”

_I’m tired, let me go home. I have not mourned my family. My bones call for Winterfell and it calls for me in turn._

Lord Arryn was not pleased with his answer, but the man knew better than to argue. Quiet Ned was, but also stubborn.

_The wolf blood. He had some of it as Benjen did but Brandon and Lyanna had most. And their dead now. _

“I hope you’ll not let this issue get between you and Robert, you both have always been tight as brothers.”, he appealed, looking to Ned with a forlorn look. He seemed to wait for a reply but when Ned gave him none, he left.

_My brothers would never kill innocent children. Robert is no brother of mine. _

Yet, another member of family lost to him.

In the weeks that followed, an obscene amount of wealth moved through the halls of the Red keep. From silk dresses for the queen to be and her ladies, to golden crowns of stags and lions, to Arbor gold and red of different variants with rich meats, and jade jewels of several shapes and sizes that shone as brightly Cersei Lannister’s eyes.

She was a beautiful woman. _Not as beautiful as Ashara. _He hoped Robert would treat her well at least but he doubted it.

_Love is sweet Ned, but it can’t change a man. _

Would he had listened then, maybe Lyanna would have been betrothed to another or even married? Rhaegar would have not been able to steal her then.

_Or would he? How accursed was the dragon prince? Would he have ignored the vows of the gods and the marriage bed?_

Robert had included Ned in small council meetings till he returned to Winterfell, initially offering the seat of Master of Laws, which Ned politely and carefully declined with the excuse of Winterfell and the North needing him.

Robert was trying to buy his friendship back. After their argument, he saw a return of his childhood companion. Lord Arryn returned to him, insisting that it was Robert’s love for Lyanna that made him blood-thirsty against the dragons.

_Ned hoped so. He would like to have his friend back. His brother back. _

He had been summoned today for yet another small council meeting, all he truly did during these meetings was listen to wedding and coronation plans. He noticed that the topic of Prince Viserys was never brought up.

_The boy is probably dead now, if not by Robert’s doing then by Lord Tywin. He is a threat to security of his future children._

Oath-breakers and king-slayers surrounded Robert now, he made a show of forgiving Jamie Lannister the previous week during the ceremony of choosing the Kings Guard. The King loudly japed that he hoped it was a one-time thing when the knight requested to join the order.

_Most in the room seemed unimpressed yet smiles adorned their faces as they swarmed around him for one favor or the other. He hated that about the south, enemies wore the faces of friends. Ambitious nobles with smiles that doubled as daggers. _

He entered the room to bored faces of the spider, Lord Tywin, Lord Renly, Maester Pycelle, Lord Arryn and finally Lord Stannis Baratheon.

_Lord Arryn had informed him that, Stannis would be coming from the wall soon._

“Finally, the meeting can begin” the King said, as Ned found his seat.

“Tell the good news brother.”

“The maester at the wall is dead”, Lord Stannis said, with a tense jaw.

_How is this good news?_

“He was a Targaryen” Stannis elaborated to a room of confused faces, “son of Maekar the first and brother to Aegon the fifth.”

“The old dragon died of a broken heart it would seem” Robert mocked, “his family line is done. Hail Stannis the dragon-slayer” he added, lifting his goblet in praise of a man who looked like he wished the ground would swallow him whole.

“Viserys Targaryen still lives, Your Grace.” Lord Lannister reminded, “We have yet to decide on his fate.”

The old Lannister then turned to Ned and sneered, “At least, those of us who have the stomach for justice.”

Before Ned could retort, the King chided the Westerland Lord, “Watch yourself Lannister. Your help to end the mad king is appreciated but Ned and I were fighting on fields while you were licking the old Dragon’s boots.”

The Lion jaw was set, and he seemed ready to roar.

Until.

Lord Arryn cleared his throat and all attention was on him “What happens to Dragon Stone, Your Grace?”

“Lord Stannis has it.” the King replied gulping down some wine, he turned to the Maester, “Have it written and sent to all seven kingdoms, that the Stags have conquered the Dragons in the Red keep and on the island of Dragon Stone. House Baratheon lives in the Red Keep, on Dragon Stone and in Storm’s End.” he finished with smile and a pat on Lord Stannis’ shoulder.

“Speaking on all seven kingdoms, Your Grace,” the spider softly added, “what are our plans concerning the Dornish?”. The room was warmer then, Robert shifted in his seat.

“After the wedding and coronation, Spider”, Lord Lannister barked, “we’ll bring the Dornish to heel after.”

_ How? After you killed their daughter and her children. A seat on the council cannot assuage their anger and neither will promises of a crown. They’ll burn for her, they’ll burn us all for her. _

“Does the wall still stand? Did the dragon’s men give you too much trouble? My hammer still works”, Robert asked shifting the conversation.

“No, Your Grace, not at all. They accepted defeat gracefully.”, Stannis replied, sipping his wine, “though it is in terrible state. I implore that the council to send provisions.”

“Why should traitors to the crown live well? The wall is punishment Lord Stannis, remember that.”, Maester Pycelle sassed.

“And yet death by cold, or starvation is leeway for the dragon’s men. Is it not better that they suffer for as long as they live than die in less than a year?” Lord Stannis posed looking to the King, who nodded in affirmation.

“My brother is right, we’ll send the wall its provisions. Let those bastards live and freeze their balls off. No death for them yet.”

“Their dragon prince did not die gracefully though, guts and blood about.” the King added, “Lady Lyanna didn’t die gracefully either.”

_No, she didn’t._

The meeting soon shifted on its axis to affairs concerning the wedding and inviting the major houses for the coronation. He hoped to leave after the meeting, but Lord Arryn bid him to stay, as he did to the King.

_He was not at ease with that. He hadn’t been in a room alone with Robert since their argument and he couldn’t. Not yet at least, the hurt still fresh in his heart. A blood-thirsty friend, a blood-thirsty brother. _

The gods were with him though, as Robert had important business to hold and left with Lord Tywin uttering a tepid apology to Lord Arryn and himself. The old Falcon looked disappointed , but Ned couldn’t be more pleased.

**Stannis**

Stannis noticed the distance between his brother and Lord Stark immediately the man walked into the small council meeting. And although Robert left no room for disrespect during the incident with Tywin, he avoided the man’s eyes favoring the cup of wine.

_Though in truth Robert always favored wine to all else, except perhaps whores. _

Later, the spider informed him of the altercation between Lord Stark and Robert. The former was not interested in the death of the boy, the Targaryen prince, but Robert and Lord Tywin did.

_He wasn’t shocked about this, Ned Stark was nothing if not honorable. What shocked him though was that he could not recall a time when he and the Northern Lord had ever stood on the same side. He usually stood on Robert’s and Robert’s never stood on his. _

His heart hurt at the thought of the little girl beyond the wall with the old stubborn maester, her only guardian.

_I should have done more. Dyed her hair, given her to someone trustworthy, and she’d grown up on dragon stone. He battled with these thoughts before and after leaving the wall. And only Alyse had assured him through her tears that letting their little dragon go was safest for her. _

And yet he worried. The spider had come to him after the meeting asking about his trip to the wall to probe most like. He praised Stannis’s idea of sending provisions to the wall. Stannis prayed to the gods that his face betrayed nothing though his heart danced with fear, he had not felt in long while. 

Walking towards the King’s solar, the same fear consumed him.

_Did the spider know something? Has he told Robert? What would become of Daenerys and Alyse? _

He had not seen the Lady since they arrived at the capital. She hurried out of the carriage muttering excuses to visit an old friend.

He still remembered the tears they shed as the left the wall and Dany. And the kisses they shared down the Kings Road, nights shared abed with each other. Propriety be damned, he cared for her and could only hope that she was not all led by grief in her return of his affections.

The guards at the door bowed and let him into the solar. His brothers sat by a table spread with wine, meat, cheese, and some bread.

“Come here, dragon slayer” Renly teased.

_He thought he hated the moniker from Robert but somehow Renly had made it sound worse._

“The man died of a broken heart” he replied, sitting between them.

Renly begun to pour him a drink and Robert was already drunk unsurprisingly. Reaching out to the spread, he proceeded to plate some food. They spoke on family and the war then.

“Who’s your lady Stannis?” Renly questioned. “the one with the brown hair and great tits.”

Robert’s attention was on him now, a sly smirk forming on his face.

“I ask you kindly not to speak of her in that manner brother, she is Lady Alyse Massey” he answered. “she was on Dragon Stone during the take-over and I have taken a liking to her”, he confessed with a flushed faced. _Just how much drinking had he done to tell his brothers this._

They were quiet, surprise painted their features as he had never mentioned a lady to them in such a manner. _Why would he? One liked ladies too much and the other too little. _

“So, you intend to wed her?”, the King asked slumped over and staring at him.

“Yes, if it is to your liking Your Grace.”, Stannis stuttered as the words left him unwillingly.

“Politically it’s a good move” Renly pointed out after a period of Robert’s silence. _It was un-like him. _

“binds some of the allies of the Dragon to the Stag. A reconciliation and an example of good faith after a bloody war.”

Robert stared at the goblet in his hands, “Granted, the dragon-slayer has earned his keep and choice of wife.” he voiced with a sad smile.

_Stannis almost felt bad for him. He had lost his lady to the Dragon Prince and from what he’d seen would wed into the lion’s den soon. But the thought of silver curls and a fat face with violet eyes halted feelings of sympathy. His little dragon could never be safe because of Robert. _

The meeting went on, with Renly and himself named Master of Laws and Ships respectively. He was honored though begrudged about regular visits to the capital.

He set out to find Lady Alyse after but a whiff of himself decided to have a bath. _He could meet her over dinner. _He entered his quarters to see her perched by the window, goblet I hand.

She looked refreshed in the blue dress she adorned and silver jewels around her neck. She fiddled with the purple silk ribbon tied to her dress.

_A reminder of Daenerys, she’d told him one night. It looked like her eyes as was as soft as her hair. They cried afterwards. _

So lost was she in her thoughts, that he cleared his throat to get her to notice him.

“How was your day my Lord?”, she asked sitting upright, smiling.

_It didn’t seem mischievous, so he heaved a breath of relief. Her sly smiles led them into compromising situations regularly. _

“My brother granted us leave to wed.” he replied needing to get that off his chest.

“If you’ll have me my Lady”.

She was quiet.

“I’ve been granted Dragon-Stone also” he added when the silence stretched on too long.

“What kind of lady so you want me to be my Lord?” she asked with downcast eyes

“Lady Baratheon of Dragon-Stone, Alyse." He walked towards her then lifting her chin with a finger so that her eyes met his.

“Or was I mistaken in our affections for one another?”

No answer came and sadness took a hold of him.

“Was that just grief?” He asked quieter.

_The walls had ears here. _

Her hands held his then, stroking his fingers.

“If I am not what you desire my lady, I will see that you are escorted home safely”. He places a kiss on her forehead and moved to retreat but her grip tightened. 

“I’ll be yours Lord Baratheon, if you swear to me that you’ll be good to me and to any children I’d bear you.” She leaned in closer than and he could feel her breath on his lips, his heat jumped in anticipation of her lips on his, like it was the first time. 

“I swear it by the Seven” He leaned in then sealing his vow with a kiss. 

NED

The day of the wedding arrived and droves of nobles richly dressed in their house colors and adorned with jewels made their way to the great sept of Baelor. The streets were also packed with small folk who had come to witness the royal celebration. He heard chants of good health towards the King and Queen. Some nobles had paused when they saw his to express their condolences for Lyanna. 

The Sept was ornately decorated with cloths of black and yellow with stag sigils and gold and red with lions. The bride and groom were resplendent in their house colors, making quite a comely pair. _Gold hair to Black hair and Blue eyes to green. _ It made him miss his wife, Catelyn seemed a good woman and he hoped they’d grow to care for each other.

_Would they ever care for each other as he and Ashara did? Do?_

The high septon declared them man and wife and they shared a chaste kiss. The feasting followed and smallfolk were invited, arranged on rows of benched under the hot sun with jugs of wine and plates of meat, bread and cakes passed around. Ned was sat close to the royal couple on the high table, and he’d occasionally spot the queen staring at Robert adoringly, blushing anytime was caught by the King. Her smiles were warm, and she was clearly in love with him.

The King was on the other hand was clearly enjoying the feast, drinking and eating and roaring at the top of his lungs to smallfolk and nobles who oft roared back. Renly was in deep conversation with Lords Lannister and Varys while Lord Stannis was speaking with his Lady.

Eventually when the bedding was called, nobles rushed to strip the newlyweds and Ned decided that it was time to retire for the night. He stayed for the next few days in sign of respect. He saw Robert during that time begrudgingly at first, but the King was calmer now and Ned thanked the Old gods for that. He was also in contact with the citadel as Winterfell was in need of a new Maester. He left for home well wishes from the King and the royal family. 

On arriving at Winterfell, he met with his wife and son and proceeded to settle his household. He had been away for too long and though Lady Catelyn had taken care of some appointments. He would be remiss not to go over them himself.

His son was big for his age and had his mother’s looks.

_Tully red hair and blue eyes. _

A happy lad that enjoyed playing and pulling at his hair.

_His treacherous mind wondered who a child with Ashara would have taken after_ on _seeing him_. _Probably Stark colors with purple eyes, looking like their mother. _

The boy was a joy to hold and be with. Laughs were easy with him. He named the boy Robb in honor of the man at the Trident, his friend. Lady Catelyn on the other hand was guarded and looked to him as a stranger. 

_He could not blame her. For he was to her, and she to him. She loved his brother, but Brandon was no more. It should have all gone to you, I wanted none of it. _

The lady complained about worship in the keep and Ned agreed to the building of a sept to honor her seven. Though he stressed that his children would worship the old gods of the north.

Benjen would come to him in the days after his return, with a burning desire to join the Night’s Watch. He thought to sway his choice but the look on Benjen’s face dissuaded him.

_Pain and heartache, another brother lost_. _Benjen was Lya's favorite brother and the one that spent most of his time with her, and Lord Reed._

Together, he and Benjen commissioned a stone-mason to create a likeness of their dear sister, though her body would never rest with their ancestors they hoped her spirit would.

_She’d finally be at peace, _ _at home._

Daenerys

The snows got thicker as she ventured deeper into the terrain. She didn't need to go too far to find food but today she craved an adventure. She hid behind at trees and hills of snow as a child playing wars that Pa Aemon had read to her.

She was Aegon on Balerion at Harren-hall, Visenya the conqueror during the field of fire cutting down her enemies with dark-sister, and often when a great sadness would overcome her, she’d be Rhaenys on Meraxes tumbling to her death in Dorne.As a child she’d been amazed by the conquerors, not just for their deeds but because they were family. Pa had stressed that the both of them were of blood and seed of Aegon the Conqueror, through his sister-wife and fellow conqueror, Rhaenys. 

_Her niece was also named Rhaenys and her nephew Aegon._ _The usurper had them murdered with their princess mother. _

The reason why she and Pa had to live beyond the wall, the reason she could never visit Dragonstone and the Red Keep. She’d grown up on tales of grief and glory of her family and wished she could live them. But it was not to be. She only hoped that Viserys wherever he was, was happy and safe.

She had wandered far from the regular path while deep in thought and spotted Old Craster’s keep. She thought to ask if anything had come for her Pa, but his warnings about the old man kept her far away from him.

Crouched into the snow, she saw a silver fox trotting about. She looked like she was dancing, a beautiful sight as was her fur. Dany thought it would look magnificent with her hair, and fox tasted sublime slow roasted. A single arrow turned the fur and snow red and Dany was thrilled for supper.

She was greeted to a scream upon entering Pa’s tent. He was stitching Zarl’s wounds, the man faced the knife of a girl from a nearby settlement. He thought himself virile enough to steal her for himself one night and was met with a knife to the thigh, twisted and buried in from what she heard. Upon seeing her, the man ceased his screams causing his face to redden with all the pain he held in.

Pain needed to be expressed, Pa Aemon had said once when she hurt herself, so she moved to get her flat knife and perched outside the tent preparing supper, hoping the man would not feel shame to scream now. As she rinsed the fox flesh with water and herbs, Zarl came out with a puffed chest.

“Good day Dany” he greeted with twitching eyes and a face of displeasure. Dany watched him limp as he walked away. 

“What did you catch sweetling?” Pa said, as he pulled closer to the fire to warm himself. She felt for him as he was much older man than many knew .

“A fox” she replied as she spun it by the fire carefully.

“Such beautiful fur” he said stroking it with his fingers. “Would look wonderful with your hair”

“and yours” she teased. His face brightened with a smile. “my hair is too white, yours still silver”

“How do you know Pa?” she questioned, her mood darkening. He was blind, he had been since she was ten and four. It hurt her the day she realized that he’d never see her again.

“Your face is one of the many I have stored in my memory, my little dragon, I’d sooner forget my name than your look”

She was closer to him then, leaning slightly on him humming a tune.

‘Why so dour?” His shaky hands now running through her hair.

“When was the last time we received news on Viserys?”

His eyes squinted and his brows creased. “That’ll be just before you counted seven name days, almost ten years ago”

“Do you think he’s alive?” Her brother would be alone, she had Pa but who was there for him? It was not fair.

“Do you think he’s alone?” 

With a sigh he replied, “I don’t know Dany, I pray every day that he is alive with the remaining members of the Kings Guard.”

She stood to turn the fox on the fire. “I think we should go looking for him”, she stated. “So, he won’t be alone.”

Pa was not surprised from the look on his face. She’d never asked to leave their little settlement not wanting to be ungrateful. But thoughts of her brother needled her constantly, her family. All alone.

“I understand the feeling of being trapped Daenerys”, he responded, and she cringed. He only ever used her full name when he needed to make a point. To chastise her.

“To not be able to help your last living kin. The feeling of being useless and alone but have you considered what you’d do if he were no more?”

She said nothing. She hadn’t. He had to be alive. She could not be that last dragon.

_She couldn’t be all alone someday._

“Then you’re outside now, unsafe and the spider gets wind of you and informs the usurper. Might I remind you that it’s not just your head at the edge of the blade but Lord Stannis’s, Lady Alyse’s, and their children” he said. She heaved a breath of pain, her chest closing at the thought of their protectors.

_They'd save me and I'd doom them._

"the Lord commander’s also”, he added softly. “you’re a dragon and your wings are meant to fly but your actions affect more than just yourself, don't forget that.”

She said nothing in reply, only staring at the fire. Watching the flames dance and flicker. _Dragons dancing about each other. _ She peered closer but her eyes began to blur and sting. His hands hers holding them and bring her into a hug.

“I did not mean to be curt with you child, do forgive me. I only mean to keep you safe for as long as I live Dany. ”

She nodded and they sat in silence until the fox was ready.

Pa Aemon.

Valarr accompanies him the Craster’s keep when there is a drop off from an envoy. He suspects that the boy and the rest of the clan are aware of his dealings beyond the wall, though there is no complaints yet as provisions are shared. He hopes that there are never. 

His involvement with Craster is a necessary evil, the man is a tenuous ally to the Watch and allows provisions to be brought. He takes his share surely, Aemon is no fool to think otherwise. And yet nothing seems to go to the women he harbors, last he saw them they were skin hanging on bones with sallow skin and sunken eyes.

Valarr leads him by hand into the keep as they both take a sit, they’re offered refreshments by a girl in a low voice but refuse. _He doesn’t trust the man enough to drink from his home. _

“Ahh Aemon” Craster bellows. “Good to see you! old friend.” 

_I am not your friend. _

“Get off” he snaps at someone. He must have pushed them because they collide with the chair, he’s on. Aemon reaches a hand out to help them get up and feels a very skinny wrist. She thanks him and walks away, her feet barely making a sound. 

“I wonder when the princess will give me a visit, I don’t think I’ve seen her before” Craster asks heaving. He has moved further away, Aemon notices. And is most likely, carrying something heavy. 

Aemon shivers at the thought of Dany in this place, as one of these unfortunate women. She posses the beauty of Old Valyria, at least before the full loss of his sight she was. He can only imagine how much she’d grown now. Once she began to develop he took note of the way the men looked at her. But she could protect herself, that gave him a sense of calm.

A bulky man from a settlement close to the fist had tried to steal her once. She fought him off with her dagger, knocking the man off his feet and scaring his face. That warned men off. For now.

“She’s a woman, needed mostly at the settlement.”

He hears Valarr snort at that. 

“A free-folk and a Targaryen” Craster replies. His words with take on a lusty slur and Aemon hoped the man is drunk on wine. Valarr has moved from his side, now strapping the provisions to the sledge with some rope.

“A man that conquers such a woman would be legendary” he states stroking a brown-haired girl at his feet.

“She is the blood of the Conquerors, Craster, she does the conquering” Aemon bites. He waits until he feels Valarr's hands lift him up and lead him out. He bids the man goodbye but not good tidings.

“Conqueror or conquered, noble blood of Old Valyria is always welcome in Craster’s keep”

Valarr informs him that more books have been sent, it’s exciting. The man informs him of all in the sledge, taking all into account.

_Books, medicine, wine sacks ,grains, fruits, and some dry meat. _

“Found this in there." Valarr places a rough sack in his hands.

He loosens the sack open and feels into it bringing out a ring. The band is of smooth and cool silver and the gem in the shape of a dragon.

_He had an incline to what color they were. _

There was a note in the sack also, he’d wait for Dany to read it to him. 

“What color is this?”

“Like purple winter roses”, he answered.

_Closest colors to Dany’s eyes. _ _A gift for Dany. Wonderful. _

She had been sullen since their last conversation. Waking up earlier than usual every day to hunt and spar. In his mind's eye, he saw her wearing a cap of fox fur, silver on silver. She deserved all and more, silk and jewels with exotic fur and crowns. Aemon hurt for the life she deserved. _This would surely brighten her day!_

He gifted Valarr with some wine, dried meat and grains, sending him home after he’d prepared dinner. Unfurling the note, he tried to trace the writing on the paper, but the cold had made it too thin. He heard her footsteps before the tent opened.

“Oh, Valarr made dinner” She asked setting something down. A bear?

“You caught a bear” he exclaimed.

“Berdis and Nelwyn helped, it’s not that big” she replied sitting by his side and plating dinner. He passed the sack to her, when they’d finished, and her gasp when she opened it made his heart lighter.

“A gift from Lord Stannis” he said.

“Oh, how I wish I could thank him”.she declared.

“What does the note say?”, he inquired.

“Lord Arryn is dead.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've been swamped at school but I'll try to get as much as I can out as we move along. Please leave comments, tell me what you think.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Winterfell's Feast, Stannis' plight and a new adventure for Aemon.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> People are unreliable narrators and I have added fours years to characters ages. Sorry this took long. I promise at get at least 2 updates per month on this baby.

**NED**

The air in the godswood grew stiller as Cat said the words. Lord Arryn, his second father, was dead. His brother is all but blood was coming to Winterfell. It had been a long time since Robert set foot in the North.

_Lyanna was still alive then. They were to be married. _

His grip on Ice’s pommel tightened, his body shook but he would not let the sword fall. Looking to his side, Cat had gone quiet – a look of worry in her blue eyes. He forced a smile for her and lifted his weary head high, an assurance that he was well. 

“Let us prepare for the royal family, My Lady. If there be any need for more meat, Robb and Theon can gather men to go hunting. The food and wine stores should be looked over for spoil and rot. The King will be here soon, and he likes his feasts. Also, have a letter sent to the wall for Benjen.”

She nodded in agreement and quickly moved to leave. Her skirts shuffling against the fallen leaves.

He knew that the godswood pleased her the least in the keep, she was not a home with the tree gods of the first men. _The seven heard her prayers instead. _

“I’m sorry for your loss Ned. I know what he meant to you.”

“Many thanks, Cat. Winter comes for us all.”

They shared a smile and she left.

From here, he watched Arya shoot an arrow perfectly, hitting the mark. Bran had been the one training to use the arrow, but Arya beat him to it. He chased his sister then, cross that she had disrupted his training yet again.

_She was Lyanna again. Catelyn had offered the name when the girl was born. A sweet gesture._

He would not fail where his father did, she’d be armed. Her regular training with Ser Rodrik made sure of that.

Robb and Theon laughed at the sight, even Catelyn. Bran continued to chase Arya almost hitting Sansa and the Septa in the process, as they walked through courtyard. It was a pleasant sight to take in, it calmed his mind reminding him of the past.

_Happiness never lasted long for him. _

_\--_

The day arrived, the members of House Stark were standing upright in the courtyard. Once the Crowned Stag sigil was spotted, everyone took their positions. The snows were light, thank the gods.

Once the King, Queen, and royal family stood before them, all members of House Stark knelt and bowed as one.

“Winterfell is yours, Your Grace.” Ned spoke

Robert’s hand then pulled him up for a fierce hug. “Brother, Ned, the gods have made it good to see you again.” Not one to forget his manners. Ned bowed, placing a kiss on Queen’s ring above gloved fingers.

“As radiant as always, Your Grace.”

“Lord Stark.” She replied haughtily, her cold beaten face twisted in a frown. The King proceeded to acquaint himself to Catelyn and the children, commenting on Robb’s height, Sansa’s beauty, and Bran’s strength.

Ned saw how he looked at Arya, the pain that flashed on his face. He hoped the Queen would not take offense at that, he had heard the Lyanna was a sore subject for them both.

_. He’d loved her so. _

“Show me the Crypts, Ned. Let me pay my respects.” The King spoke. 

“Surely there would be time for that later. The journey has been a long one and the winds have only gotten worse, Your Grace.” The queen pointed out, her face set in a full scowl now.

The King brushed her off already walking towards the tomb. She fumed now, clenching her hands in her full skirts.

“I’ll direct you into the keep, Your Grace.” Catelyn spoke with a tight smile as she beckoned the royal party inside.

-

_Hand of the King! _

He looked at the said King now, he was at Lyanna’s statue stroking the rose petals in her hands. The weight of the words pressed into him, the walls of the vast tomb moved closer as he felt the eyes of every Stark on him.

_The second most powerful person in the seven kingdoms. _

“Robert…, Your Grace, it’s an honor you have offered me, but I cannot accept.” He stammered. Robert turned to him, looking in the candle light like the man he’d ridden into war with.

_The maiden’s fantasy. _

“Why Ned, you’re the best man for the position since Lord Arryn’s passing.” Sadness crossed the King’s face at the mention of their foster father.

“How did he die?” Ned could not help but ask. The man he’d left, although sourly, in the capital could not be cut down.

“It happened all too quick. He was fine a moment, and then the next, he wasn’t.”

They both stared at Lyanna’s effigy.

“Starks don’t fare well south, Your Grace.”

“That was when the Dragons lived, Ned. And I have smashed them into oblivion.”

_That was a lie. Prince Viserys lives. _

“Though some bootlicking Lords still call me a usurper. ME NED!” Robert bellowed, he flinched at that. Never being able to as much as lift his voice above a whisper when he visited the crypts.

_“They’re dead, sweet Ned. They shan’t bother us nor wake to scold us.”_

“Come with me to the capital. Let us be side by side like the days of the rebellion. Lets us make this country anew. Don’t make me ask Lord Tywin.”

“With your permission, Your Grace, I’ll sleep on it and inform you of my decision on the morrow.” 

“You have it, Ned. And enough with the titles. Sleep on it and the other thing Ned.”

He gulped as he walked to his chambers, the King had proposed marriage. The last time a member of his family was involved with the royal family, it was a disaster for the entire continent.

_This is different. This is Robert._

-

Three hours into the feast and Ned was tired. Sansa and Jeyne had welcomed the princess into their circle, all three could be found giggling in the corner. Arya was in her chambers, earlier the girl had thrown food at her sister. It stained her dress and Sansa shrieked.

Earlier in the night, the queen and Cat had talked briefly. Ned overhead the praises she heaped on Sansa’s stitching and dress making his daughter’s face red as her hair. Both women said little to nothing to each other now, his wife attending to Rickon and the queen nursing a cup of wine.

He couldn’t blame her for her obvious disinterest, Robert was on the other side of the hall. A wench clutched to his thighs, with one hand on his goblet and the other under her dress. His King, his brother, his friend had only changed in girth. The man was the same much to his chagrin. 

He would not accept his offers, he decided then. He would not leave the North.

The next morning, he opted for a private meal with Catelyn as to inform her of the King’s offers. And as he suspected, she was happy.

“Sansa’s sons might rule the seven Kingdoms.” She argued wisely, when he did not share her good nature.

“She’s fifteen Cat, just a child.”

“No, My Lord. Sansa is no child, she’s a beauty of noble birth and upbringing. All your bannermen vied for her hand for their sons and you rejected them, I said nothing. But now, I cannot understand why you would not accept. You will be the most powerful man in all the seven kingdoms next to the King himself. And Sansa will be the Queen in time, what is wrong with that?”

“You refused all offers to foster the boys with Lords of the North and elsewise, you cannot refuse this, My Lord. You simply can’t. Who can refuse a King?”

_No one but a friend can refuse a friend._

A knock on their chamber doors stopped their argument, she shrugged her robe on and opened it to Maester Luwin.

“A rider came at dawn with a message for you, my Lady.”

The maester handed her a scroll, tied neatly with a blue ribbon. She opened it, eyes scanned the parchment. She looked confused for her moment until her face turned to dread.

The maester noticed this and moved to leave, nodding to Ned.

“You stay maester, your council is needed.” She took the parchment to the fire, watching as its edges curled up and burned.

“What is it Cat?”

“A message from Lysa.” She shuddered, arms wrapped around herself despite the already warmed room.

“She says that the Lannisters killed her husband. The queen especially.”

Ned huffed, ravings of a grief-stricken widow most like.

“She’s embittered by grief Catelyn, she should know better than to make such accusations against anyone, the queen no less.”

“She is not my Lord. As brash as my sister is, I take that this is no lie” His wife’s voice could be scarcely heard. “The note was strategically set, by a rider, you say maester.” She looked to maester Luwin and, the man nodded his chains rattling.

“It was sent so as not to be discovered. Written in a language of our childhood known only by the both of us. She knows the consequences of this getting in the wrong hands.”

He still was not sure. Falsely accusing the Lannisters would be dreadful.

“Don’t you see my Lord, you can uncover the truth of the matter. Take the position of the Hand, use the power to discover what truly took your foster father’s life.”

_A low blow._

“My Lady is correct, My Lord. If what the Lady of the Vale speaks is true, the King might not be safe. Who’s to say His Grace would not be the next?”

He cursed them both then, but they had the truth of it. Looking to his wife, he nodded.

“Then I must give the King his answer before noon. Robb and Rickon will stay here with you in Winterfell, My Lady.”

“Bran. What of Bran?” He knew how she loved him so, he wondered if it was because of his name. What that name meant to her.

_It was all meant for him. I did not ask for the cup to pass to me but drink from it I must._

“Grey-water Watch. Lord Reed accepted the wardship I proposed”

“He wants to be a knight, My Lord.” The Maester said. He almost snapped at the old man, he knew that too but the last time a Brandon Stark set foot in King’s Landing, he died.

“I have made up my mind. He will be a ward for Lord Reed.”

Catelyn did not look pleased by that.

“The grey-joy ward?” Maester Luwin asked.

“He is still a ward of House Stark, Balon might still be mad enough to try something ill. He stays.” The boy was not too bad, though Ned often worried about his influence on Robb.

“Have the kitchens prepare food for lunch Catelyn. The king and I might stay long during out ride.”

She bowed and left with the maester to begin the day.

**Arya**

She fought the urge to yell at the Septa as she continued her instruction over sewing. She watched in awe as Sansa’s hands weaved with the needle like a swimming fish, her stitches always came out good.

While she struggled with crooked stitching and bleeding fingers, she could hear the giggling and soft speaking of the girls. Most likely, they were still gushing about the Prince. He’d given her sister wild-flowers while breaking their fast and she’d blushed and bowed perfectly when thanking him.

_A perfect Lady like their mother._

With her red hair and blue eyes and Arya’s limp black hair and dull grey eyes. They could scarcely be regarded as distant cousins, much less sisters. All her siblings were blessed with mother’s looks. It often made her sad, especially when Jeyne called her a horse-face.

_The King has called her beautiful though. She reminded him of Lady Lyanna. _

The sound of a horn jostled her from her thoughts, father was back from hunting. She got up and ran out of the room ignoring the calls and threats of the Septa. She could tell mother and all in the ladies in Westeros, Arya could not bring herself to care.

-

Robb handed her the pup. Her fur was grey, and her eyes were dark and golden, like aged honey. She was a fussy thing, turning to lick and nip at her hands squalling like baby Rickon did, when she’d first seen him.

Robb had found them alongside the hunting party, with Theon, and convinced father to let them all keep one. If they abided to father’s rules of taking care of them. She ran to the kitchens, asking for a tin of warm milk. She watched as the pup drank hungrily. So much so that she swam in the milk and it dripped from her tail.

She decided to name her, Nymeria for the Rhonye queen, a warrior queen.

Her good mood did not last long, as mother appeared admonishing her for running out of the sewing class without proper leave. Her begging was for naught and she faced the punishment, sewing. She was to sew a direwolf and a Stag as an apology to the Princess, for her bad manners.

After spending hours with the Septa, the cruel woman finally gave her leave to rest. Arya had thought that she’d still complain about her stitches, but the woman was sleepy and let her go. That night Nymeria was in her chambers running around. Arya had tried to teach her to do tricks but the direwolf would not listen and would not learn, opting to bark at the table and howl whenever she heard her shuffling beyond the chamber door. Sleep did not come easy to Arya that night, but eventually at the hour of the nightingale, Nymeria had worn herself out.

-

At breakfast, the King himself announced Sansa’s betrothal to the Prince.

_She’s be queen one day._

Mother and the queen looked pleased, The Queen kissed her fingers in mock courtesy. The Prince asked Sansa for a ride through Winter town afterwards, father accepted and urged her to join them alongside Prince Tommen and Princess Myrcella. She wanted to refuse but mother thought it was a splendid idea, and soon after breaking her fast she was being fitted for dresses for the outing.

It was a boring ride around winter town, she passed the time watching people gawk at the Prince and Sansa as they rode side by side. He was dressed in a rich green doublet that matched his eyes and Sansa wore a blue dress embroidered with wolves at the sleeves. Her hair was in waves falling down her back, it shone in the sun like a field of flowers, especially when the prince had put some in it.

Arya felt sick, all she wanted to do was run with Nymeria. They stopped at an inn when the younger Prince complained about being hungry. Tommen was soft and plump enough; any more food and he’d be a yellow haired pumpkin. At the inn, they’d snacked on boar ribs, and lemon cakes before the Prince requested a bard sing for his fair Lady Sansa.

Drunk, the man strung his instrument, fumbling over the words of Florian and Jonquil, if the Prince or Sansa noticed they said nothing. Instead choosing to exchange shy smiles and sweet words. As the tune became more jovial, Sansa was twirling with the Prince. As graceful as a Queen.

_She’d be a pretty queen. _

Tommen asked her to dance, but his stubby limbs were worse at dancing than she was. The hound laughed at them both as they rocked clumsily, and soon the people of the inn joined in. She ignored them until she heard the Prince cackle, saying she danced like a tree. She looked then to his chuckling face and at Sansa, who was too polite to laugh but wore a smirk. She felt the burn of the tears then and rushed to one of her father’s men unashamed of what would be thought of her. Citing a stomach ache, the man took hold of her hands and escorted her back to the keep. When she entered her chambers, she let the tears fall, only Nymeria would hear her cry.

**STANNIS**

Since he returned home, he’s had no desires, for food, love, sleep, nor companionship. Keeping away from his family most of the time. His Lady tried to talk to him, but fear kept his mouth closed. His suspicions doomed Lord Arryn, he would not let them hurt his family.

His mind drifted to the man’s son, the sickly boy he had robbed of his father. What could he do now? Surely the Hand’s death proved his suspicious. Was the queen aware of what he knew?

He did not hear the door creak open until he felt her arms wrapped around his middle. The man in love wanted to nuzzle into her hair and prolong their embrace, but the Lord wanted to be away from her lest he taint her with his cursed knowledge.

“Let me in Stannis.” She begged, voice hoarse. He took a deep breath and turned to her, to find his fears confirmed. Her eyes were red-rimmed, the skin under them leathery and dry. Her tears dried on her face.

He held her hands to kiss her knuckles. “Letting you in Alyse will put you in danger and I cannot bear to do that.”

“Why! What could be worse that what we’ve already done?”

_Daenerys. Their little dragon. Their secret. _

“Many things are worse.” _This means war and the first death has already happened._

Her brows pulled together in thought. He fought the urge to admire her body. It had been too long. He needed to be of sound mind not led by pleasures. _Pleasures would get him killed, would get all of them killed. _

“What killed Lord Arryn?” He ground his teeth in annoyance at her shrewd mind. _Gods, so stubborn and insufferable. _“Leave it be Alyse.”

“No!”, she screamed at him. Hands grabbing his night vest. He grabbed her hands roughly, squeezing them as tight as he could bear.

_A little hurt will keep her away. _

“My Lady, I suggest that you get to your chambers, lest you’ll wake the whole keep. Goodnight.”

-

He was in his solar when a guard – Ser Patrick – brought the news. Lord Florent was heard besmirching his wife’s name at an inn. Stannis had heard whispers of the rumor, some from his wife. She had urged him to deal with the man, but he did not, since it was a null point. His children were his. _Robert’s weren’t._

His lack of actions allowed this man, this fool, the courage to insult his wife while on his lands. The Lord Florent would spend a night in the dungeons, Stannis decided.

-

He was with Shireen in the solar, going over the accounts. She was a sweet and witty child, having her mother’s face but his features. Her eyes reminded him of another’s, _twinkling when she smiled. _ She was surprised when he offered to assist her with the work, as she’d usually be left alone with occasional supervision from himself, his Lady, and Maester Cressen.

“Will I be going to the capital Father?” She asked with doe eyes, and a smile. “I missed Prince Joffrey’s name day tourney and I would like to meet Lady Margaery.”

He bristled at that, knowing how cunning the Tyrells were. “Does she write you?”

“We are to be sisters after all, when Gendry weds her.” Shireen was wise for her age, yet he hoped to shield her from the cruel reality of the court. Alyse though had taught her, how to play the game.

_That’s what she called it. The game of thrones. _

A guard knocked announcing the presence of Ser Davos. He saw how Shireen beamed, the onion knight was her favorite advisor.

“Greetings My Lord, my Lady.” His bow was overly comical like a knight in a play. Shireen laughed, replying with an equally comical curtsy.

“Letters, My Lord.” He said. Placing them carefully on his desk and taking a seat to go through them with Shireen.

_It was practice with the knight’s letters, Shireen had assured him. Though he trusted the knight more that most of the nobles that passed through the keep. _

The pair read through letters while he focused on the accounts. Most were invitations to weddings and name day ceremonies, some asking for favors and appointments on Dragonstone. The old man’s hands slipped a bundle of letters to him while Shireen was reading.

_More marriage proposals. _

-

Just before supper Alyse came to his solar. In truth he’d sent for her since the morning. Hands folded, spine straight and head held high, she sat by his desk. Hollow eyes meeting his_._

_ She looked like a strict septa. She may have laughed at the jape, another time but not now_.

He moved to kneel before her, unfolding her hands and placing kisses on her fingers. “I should have listened to you all these years Alyse, I know I deserve your fury two times over, but I beg your mercy”

“You beg my mercy only because the legitimacy of your heir was threatened publicly, nothing more. All these years, whispers screamed that I was the King’s whore, your brother’s whore because of the son I bore you and I reported them to you, but you did nothing. Do not think me foolish Stannis.” She spat, pulling her fingers from his mouth.

“Perhaps, I was foolish to think you were better than that.” She whispered.

“He will be punished, my Lady. I assure you.” She said nothing to that.

“Should I have your supper sent her, my Lord?”

Sighing, he spoke. “Yes Alyse.”

-

The red-faced Lord Florent was on his knees, clothes torn from the force impressed on him by the guards with a mouth twisted and jutted forward on his tear streaked face.

“My Lord, it was a jape made in cruel taste. I meant it not. I beg your mercy sire.” His hoarse voice could scarcely be heard. The man had cried all night in the dungeons. Stannis made sure he was kept in the coldest and darkest one.

Stannis kept a neutral face, one hand stroking his beard and the other tightly fisted on his jerkin. By his side looking calm was his Lady as fair as ever. She did not meet his eyes when he sought for hers.

_She had many things to be cross for. _

“It is not my mercy, you must beg for Florent. It’s my Lady wife’s, she’s the one you accused of adultery. A grievous sin, might I remind you, in the sight of the Seven.” He spoke praying for her input, he always asked for it and she’d never denied him.

_That was before all this happened. _

The man bowed lower, his elbows on the floor and head to the ground. Stannis could see the streams of snot that rolled down his nose, sticking to his beard.

“My Lady, I beg your mercy. It was ill thought of me to make cruel accusations towards you. I beg your mercy, as the Mother is merciful.” The fool chanted, swaying like a man on drink before breaking into a sobbing fit when Alyse said nothing.

“I am in no position to grant you mercy, My Lord Florent. It is my husband’s heir that the insult stains the most. Your mercy rests in his hands.” Alyse softly spoke, condemning the man with words that felt like a kiss to his hearing and yet.

_Do you think I care only about my heir, Alyse? You were insulted too. _

She was looking at him now, the Lady’s mask in place. Waiting for the decision of her husband. The importance of the situation did nothing to quell the tingle down his spine that her stare brought. His leathers pressed into his skin at that_. _

_An inopportune moment. He needed to end this farce now. _

“My Lady is right, a hundred lashes of the whip then would...”

The man burst into more tears then, shrieking like a kicked cat. The guard to his right thumped him with the pommel of his sword, forcing him to swallow his cries. His body shuddering.

“Many thanks, Ser Ulmer. As I was saying, a hundred lashes of the whip would serve to curb your lips from spreading false words about anything ever again. You may leave us.”

“My actions were not honorable Alyse. I should not have allowed dirt on your good name. I wish I acted sooner.” He said staring at her and hoping she’d look to him.

‘Will that be all, my Lord?” _No! stay with me, kiss me and forgive me. _

He nodded affirmatively, unable to utter words.

-

After another supper in his solar, he went to her chambers immediately with the intention to talk. He went through the letters, proposing for Shireen’s hand for House Celtigar, House Manderly, and strangely House Arryn.

_Shouldn’t she still be in mourning? _

He was nursing his fourth cup of wine when she came in. Moving immediately to the ornate vanity as she prepared for bed. She uncurled her hair from its style, running her hands and then a comb through it.

“Alyse.” He said, slurred in truth.

“Stannis” She said. “Shireen said she asked your permission to go to the capital today, but you gave her no answer.”

_He knew what she was doing. Putting more distance between them underneath the farce of doing her duty. He did it too._

“Not now, wife. Not now. Let us talk on our problems.”

“Our daughter not going to your brother’s court is our problem. She is of the age, husband. She can be a lady of the court for her cousins, build relationships with girls her age, and find a match worthy of house Baratheon.” She spoke, while wiping her face with a warm wash cloth.

Though her words were sharp, he heard the ache beneath.

_Parting was a difficult issue for them both. _

“Let her be with us for some more time. Robert would understand.” He croaked. Thoughts of Shireen married made his throat go tight. 

“I love them Stannis, as you. But there are rules that nobles must follow, rumors will-”

“And I’ll put an end to them.” He said, cutting her off with a raised voice, “When such rumors sprout, I’ll weed them out.”

“Like you did for me?” She sneered, pulling off her dress. Exposing the light teal shift underneath. He noticed her nipples harden through the material, his blood rushing away from his head.

_When last had they coupled?_

“You don’t understand my Lord, what word of mouth can do a Lady’s repute.” She said. “If you were any other man of lower standing or ill morals. I’d be exiled or killed, our children would be labelled as bastards, and shame would forever ring through my father’s halls.”

He was left without words. “I truly never meant to hurt you Alyse. I... well.”

“Intentions are all well and good my Lord, but they do no matter. You’re a man of action Stannis. Take action when I report an issue to you.”

“I knew it was a lie. You can barely stand the King’s letters.”

“And yet.” She moved her hands through her hair applying her scented oil.

He stood then holding the pillars by the bed, lest he sway and fall.

“Mercy Alyse. Mercy.” The scent of the oil was stronger now. He watched as the curls stretched and bounced. The lights making her eyes colored like the sugary treat they imported from across the seas.

She shuddered when his palm caressed her cheek, brown doe eyes looking up to him.

_Full of pain and anger. _

“I was afraid that somehow they were his.” She flinched at his words moving her face away. “So, you thought I was your brother’s whore then?”

“No, I knew you were not. My mind knew the truth of the matter, but my heart played tricks. How could you choose me?” _The unlovable brother_

Her ritual stopped as her hands stroked a familiar ribbon. After a beat, her hands intertwined and squeezed his. 

_A small reassurance, not a complete mercy but the chance to earn one._

“You must tell me, when you feel these things Stannis. I am no mind reader. You hurt me and I am still cross with you, but my love remains.”

She was looking to him expectedly now, eyes asking.

“I have reason to believe that my brother’s children are bastards.” She dropped the tin in her hand- eyes wide. “That is a serious accusation Stannis, we just talked on a woman’s repute. If false, you will doom her.”

“It’s not false. Lord Arryn’s death proves that.” He placed a soft pillow on the floor to sit on. “He was the only one I shared my suspicions with. He investigated and reported back to me and now he’s dead.” Tears burned his eyes threatening to fall.

_I caused a child to lose his father. _

She was staring into the mirror rubbing her fingers into her temples. “Does she know that you’re aware? Do you know what killed the man?”

“I fled as soon as he died. I don’t know if she does.”

“What was your plan?”

He shook his head and whispered, “I have not fully formed one. But I was not returning to the capital”

“You have to,” she said absolute. _Does she want me dead? _“She’ll kill me if I return.”

“It’s a gamble really, whether you return or not. She might still kill you. But she risks exposure if she kills you in the capital. The deaths of two members of the small council will not go unnoticed by even your oaf brother.”

“So, I return and what! Act like everything is normal and peachy.” He asked, something dark churning in his belly.

“Yes”, she replied as she shuffled into her night dress. She wore nothing underneath and he took note of her breasts.

_Are they still soft to touch?_

“You return and you continue like nothing is amiss. You are loyal to the crown, your brother and his heir Prince Joffrey”

He lips parted to disagree, only for hers to slot into them. Kissing him tenderly with her hands on his face. “But beneath all that, you’re looking for a way to take it all down and expose her to your brother.”

“There is no honor in that.” He whispered against her lips. “No, there isn’t, my love but there is survival.”

“It’s been years since I’ve set foot in the capital, I’ll be coming for business soon.” She smiled stroking his beard.

“Nothing must seem amiss.” He said with understanding.

She smiled at that.

“Tell me, how are they? Is their marriage sound?”

“It’s not. He drinks and whores his nights and days, and she’s terrible.”

“When I get to the capital, I’ll send for Gendry.” He whispered.

A smile consumed her entire face.

Their son was fostered in Storm’s End for two years now, coming home only once. The entire keep missed him, though no one as much as Shireen and Alyse. Renly had written that his rookery was full of letters from the two, he wondered what his brother would think if aware that they still managed to write more in his own letters to the boy.

“I feel he is writing less and less to me, Stannis.”

He was. Gendry had complained about the constant teasing from Renly over doting heavily on his mother.

_Renly barely remembers mother. He on the other hand, could still see her frame and brown hair in his mind’s eye. _

“You can address your concerns to your boy in the capital.” He teased. His heart jumping when she laughed.

“Come to bed wife. Let me hold you, I’ll soon be sleeping alone.”

**CERSEI**

She awoke at dawn to Jaime’s soft snoring. His arms around her and her head to his heart. On her thighs she felt his need. Removing herself from his embrace, she reached for his sword and sheathed it into her mouth.

It was warm and slick with his desire. It was perfect for her. She sucked him out and into her mouth slowly, Enjoying the stretch and tingle she felt behind her throat whenever she took too much.

“Fuck Cersei.” He was awake now and his hands found purchase in her hair. He never pulled too tight like Robert oft did. Choosing to pet and caress instead. His hips bucked in wanting and she moved faster, using her teeth to lightly grate his cock.

When his thighs went taut, she slipped him out of her mouth and into her cunt. Riding him as fast as she could. Jaime had covered him mouth with both hands, so with one hand tugging roughly at a nipple and the other rubbing at her pearl, she brought herself to release with the thought of more golden-haired babes.

In bliss of her release, her mind drifted to the incident at the trident and she was irate. Her son, and heir to the seven kingdoms was mauled by the wolf bitch’s beast, and Robert did nothing. No matter how much she goaded him, the idiot did nothing. Allowing the girl to leave without as much as a whip on her back for the harm caused to her son. She took her vengeance though, when the hound brought back the body of the peasant that attacked her son.

_But it was not enough._

She asked Jaime to ensure that both beasts of the Stark sisters were dead. But somehow, they’d been freed.

_Why did she have to do everything herself?_

She’d noticed in the dreaded northern keep, the way Robert looked at the child. Wondering aloud to Jaime on how Lord Stark and his reputable honor would take his friend fathering a bastard on his daughter.

_Robert never went that young, at least to her knowledge._

Jaime informed her afterwards, that the girl resembled her aunt greatly.

_Lyanna Stark. _

She shook her head to remove the vile name from her thoughts. Robert loved the whore and Rhaegar died for her. Two men she had been foolish to think to love had chosen a beast over the rising sun.

_Men only thought with their cocks. _

A prick between her thighs brought her mind back to her bed of soft furs and crouched between her legs was the only man she’d ever love, as beautiful and worthy as her.

_He thought with his cock also, but she was all he thought about. _

‘Where were you, my sweet?”. He asked kissing her belly upwards. “surely not thinking of the Starks again, I hope.”

She bristled at that pushing his hands away from her. “Didn’t you see what those their beasts did to Joffrey, our son?”

“You should not say such things in the open Cersei. I very much like my head on my shoulders.” He hissed. “Joffrey overstated his injuries. It was barely a scar. Father has many, if your son is to be a great king so will he.”

“The girl should have lost her hand at least. Does the law mean nothing?” She whined and moaned. He had his mouth around her nipple now. Flicking and sucking.

“Don’t bother much. The Starks are loyal. Is that not enough?” He asked, pinching the now red nipple.

“Loyal to Robert, not Joffrey.” She groaned as he sheathed himself into her. Hard once again.

“That’s where the marriage to the prettier Stark girl comes in, is it not?”

She nodded unable to form words. As he rocked his hips into hers, focusing on her pleasure and her lover instead. Soon her body shook into a quivering mess.

_Robert had never given her worthwhile pleasure, he only took and took. _

“I would seek your bed more often, if this is how mornings would go.” He said stroking her back as she lay on his chest.

She enjoyed the embrace until she could no longer. Sweeping herself off him shrugging her shift on and ringing for her handmaidens.

“You should leave now. I’m sure Ser Barristan has some mundane tasks for you to perform.” He frowned at that. He’d grown too safe in her chambers and underneath her furs, they were wolves about now.

He kissed her brow when he’d dressed leaving through the passage way.

-

She broke her fast with her children. Listening to Myrcella harp on about her sewing lessons with the red-haired whore and her friend, and Tommen on the state of his cat. Her little boy named the beast, Ser Pounce. It made her smile at his innocence.

_Had she been as innocent once? The girl in the well didn’t think so._

-

She was in distress, though she sat calmly in the gardens overseeing the Blackwater. Her mind wandered to Eddard Stark and her skin crawled. She hated the man, his high sense of honor, his refusal to bend to his betters, his children – the red-haired whore that would cast her down and the little beast that mauled her son, and his loyalty to the fat fool.

Joffrey had no such loyalty with the man’s son, as she hoped he’d have. That’s what Sansa Stark was for, a northern queen would keep the north loyal.

_Why should a child get a crown that she’d worked for, all her life?_

She wouldn’t, Cersei decided. She was a lion of Casterly Rock, daughter to the great Lord Tywin. Nothing would be taken from her.

**ACROSS THE NARROW**

**Jon **

_Beneath the gold, the bitter steel. _

He spat, the words sour in his mouth. Aegor Rivers had wreaked havoc on the lands of his father, and his and his to the line of Aegon the Conqueror and his sister-wife Rhaenys. Yet here he stood amongst ghost and liars, they were his only hope.

He had known for years that once he turned ten and eight, he would join the company like Viserys did. Lady Ashara assured that their services would already be paid for by Dorne, but Ser Arthur and mother believed in knowing the men that would fight for them- not as a ruler but a fellow soldier.

He was no longer Aemon Targaryen, son of Rhaegar Targaryen, the last Dragon and Lyanna Stark, the she-wolf, but Jon Snow, a bastard of the north, in exile looking for glory. He’d ridden for days through Pentos to reach here and stood now with about 100 men outside the camp. From here, he could see the elephants monstrous and grey with polished ivory tusks.

“Is that a _fucking _direwolf?” Jon turned to the red-haired man. He was as tall as Jon, but lanky. He had a sword in a tree sewed on his tunic.

“Aye. His name’s Ghost.”

“How did you get a direwolf this far from the North.”

He bit his lip and considered concocting a story for the man but decided against it. “I got him off a Braavosi poacher when he was a pup.” If the man heard him, Jon couldn’t tell, only watching as he stared at Ghost with awe and fear.

“Name’s Asher Forrester.” Jon’s ears perked up at that remembering his mother’s teaching on Great Houses and vassals of Westeros. House Forrester was sworn to House Glover, who in turn was sworn to House Stark.

“Jon Snow.” He replied taking the offered hand in a firm handshake.

“A northern bastard?” Asher said eyes perusing him. 

Jon was aware of how bastards were treated in Westeros, save for Dorne, and steeled himself for rebuke.

“Black hair, grey eyes, a direwolf and a face that gives nothing away. By the old gods, you’re a stark bastard.” Jon shrugged, “I wouldn’t know. Never knew my mother or father.”

“Your father might be Brandon Stark; the whole north knew he couldn’t keep it in his breeches.” Asher japed running a hand through his hair. “No offense meant though.” He added.

“None taken.”

\--

The collective trumpeting of elephants silenced the crowd of new recruits for the commanders to introduce themselves. The power had changed hands after the death of Blackheart, and he watched Ser Strickland wondering if he had what it took to take them home.

_Do you have what it takes to take your home? Is it home?_

Home or not, the kingdoms across the narrow were his by right and he planned to get them back.

After the introductions, they were settled into new tents within the camp. The tents were larger than he’d ever seen, stacked with make shift beds lain side by side that would allow over ten men sleep in one tent.

_He cringed at that. _

The bed was good enough and the tent was warmer than expected for the cold nights. He chose the bed by the mouth of the tent and cleared a space for Ghost to rest. Rummaging through his lot for a hair tie, he felt the flap opened and turned to see Asher.

“Ahh! Fellow brother in exile.” Asher greeted with a pat on Jon’s shoulder and an attempted one at Ghost- who bared his teeth in defiance.

“Okay wolf, none for you.” He said choosing the bed by Jon’s. “What do you think of them?” Jon asked.

“Well everyone looks like the _hardest son of a bitch_, I’ve ever met. I mean did you the see the giant with scars across his face.”

He laughed, “I doubt he’s a real giant. Just a tall man.”

“Come now Jon, surely your eyes work. The man can crush both out heads beneath his palm.” He spoke. “mayhap he’s a descendant of Maelys”

The monstrous, the last of the dreaded Blackfyre line. Most men of the company that claim Westerosi are descendants of houses that fought for the Blackfyres. And here he stands, a Targaryen amongst them with the same dreams of going home.

“Why are you here Forrester?” Jon asks.

“For glory, same as you Snow. Drink.” He replies handing Jon a skin. “What is it?” Asher gives no answer though only repeating the motion for drinking.

Jon takes a gulp. The drink feels cool on his tongue, but he regrets it immediately. It burns a trail down his throat, leaving it sore; made worse by stinging. He coughed up the rest returning the skin to Asher.

“What the _fuck_ was that?”

“Ale, a Northman’s drink.”

“I’ve had ale. That’s poison.” He said, rinsing his mouth with a water skin.

“It’s self-produced. My own special brew. If it were poison Jon, I’d be dead.” That was not how poisons worked, consume something enough times in the right measures and your body would welcome it- crave it even.

He noted to himself never to collect drinks from Asher.

\--

He could not sleep. Only tossing and turning as the hours went by, the tent of snores did not help either. Quietly he slid off his bed in an effort not to wake Ghost. Outside, the camp was asleep, though he could hear mild talking around the fires. He sat outside the tent so as not to draw attention to himself, but he did.

“You’re up late.” He turned to see Edric. His face was strict and schooled but, in his eyes, danced mischief.

“The same could be said for you, ser.” He smiled, looking up to the full moon. 

“You look so much like him right now, you know.” The knight teased. “Long hair broodingly looking up to the moon. A harp and silver hair would completer the picture.”

Mother had said the same, claiming that with silver hair, he’d be his father in face. What would Rhaegar Targaryen think of him? All he knew of his father were from the knights and mother, and their stories did not count for much as it seemed they hardly knew the man either.

_Or he hardly let them?_

“What would he think of me?” He knew he would kick himself for asking come morning, but he needed to know more.

“I cannot say for sure what his thoughts would be, but I know he would have loved you.”

He snorted at that, “There is nothing new in fathers loving their sons ser.”

“Not all fathers, especially not his father.” Jon paused at that, he hardly ever got to hear of his grandfather.

“Was Aerys always mad?” The knight was sad as he shook his head from side to side. “What caused it then?”

_Can it happen to me?_

“Tonight, is not the night for history, get some rest, the morrow’s training will be strenuous.”

“Ser, I beg you teach me the history. I…, I fear to lose my mind.” He stuttered. Ever since he learnt of the madness of his grandfather, he’d wondered just how much was in him.

“The battle is half lost, if you already fear Jon.”

“I beg a different opinion ser, I can always turn back”

“There is no “I” in any of this Jon. You are not going to be like him because you have a family.”

“So, did he!”

“It’s different. I beg you to give me time. I’m not in the frame of mind to walk down those roads.” He was fed up with the secrecy on Aerys but nodded in understanding.

He tired himself out soon and returned to the tent to rest. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please leave comments kindly. Tell me if Arya and Jon seem familiar to canon, they were the most difficult to write in this chapter.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ned tries to balance finding Lord Arryn's killer, fixing the realm for a lazy friend, and protecting his family. Dany learns more about family and dreams. Jon drinks, fights, and gains an ally.

**Ned**

_ Six million Gold dragons. _

He wanted to plunge headfirst into the table. The crown under Robert owed Six million Gold Dragons. 

“How is this possible? Did Lord Arryn and the King just spend all that was left in the treasury of the mad King?” He asked the Master of Coin.

“Not actually”, Lord Baelish answers with a smirk, “ the former Hand always tried to rein in His Grace’s spending but the King always had the final say. Hence.”

“Is this all owed to the Iron Bank?”

“Half of the crown’s debt is to the Queen’s father, the rest is split unevenly between the Lord of Highgarden and then, the Iron Bank.” Lord Renly answers.

He rubbed his temples staring at the bill of expenses. 

_ Lannister gold runs the country. What the hell is Robert thinking? _

As he thinks of the man, Robert barges in with Lord Varys by his side. The Eunuch barely has a smile on his face, _ unusual, _ treading gently behind the King’s thundering steps. 

“Let us begin this damned thing with important news. Spider speak.”

The man unfolds his hands passing a scroll to Grand Maester Pycelle to read and pass to the rest of the council. 

“My little birds claim that Prince Viserys is treating with the Golden company and garnering the support of a few nobles in Essos. I”

Lord Renly cuts the Eunuch off, “A Black-fyre found company would never fight for Targaryens. Aren’t they sworn enemies?”

“They are meant to be, My Lord, but shared dragon-blood could unite them”

“The boy cannot afford their services.He is an exile.” Ned says, hoping to be done with the top.

“Perhaps he has funds, the Dornish could be aiding his return.” Lord Baelish replies, “this would explain their lack of communication and disregard of attempts at reconciliation with the crown.”

Robert seems to agree with the point made.

“ Watch your tongue, Lord Baelish! It is too soon to point fingers. Who is to say that they would work with Targaryens again? I do recall that Prince Rhaegar dishonored their princess when he crowned Lady Lyanna.” Pycelle croaks. 

“The Grand Maester is right.”the King says, “this is not worth starting a war for, when my kingdoms have been at peace for so long. Are your little birds aware of his current whereabouts Spider?” 

“The current consensus says Lys, Your Grace.”

“Good, a faceless man will do then.” 

Ned expects someone to bring up the issue of expenses but no-one does. All of them are silent in agreement save for Ser Barrristan. 

“We cannot currently afford that, Your Grace. Who is to say that the company would honor his requests?” The Knight says with gritted teeth. 

Robert turns to him sharply, a dangerous look on his face. 

“You would like that wouldn’t you Ser Barristan? I will not dismiss the threat he poses still with or without the company’s backing.”

The knight’s mouth thins into a straight line. 

“Ser Barristan speaks true, Your Grace. The Crown’s debt is too great to afford a faceless man at this time.” Ned says.

“Perhaps a brave man can be sent to extinguish the last dragon, with the promise of knighthood, perhaps even a small lordship and a castle.” Lord Renly says. 

“Then find the bravest man, Spider. I will add a reward of 4000 gold dragons, if the boy’s head is brought back. I would hang it by the gates for all of Westeros to see. The last dragon slain.” 

Ned’s eyes meet the knight’s then and in them is a gentle urging for an objection, but he looks away, he can do nothing now. 

“In the meantime, fixing the rift with the Dornish is the next best course of action.” Ned says.

“A marriage, could do it.” Lord Baelish says, “ Arianne Martell is rumoured to be a beautiful Princess, perhaps Prince Tommen as a husband, a consort.” 

“The Prince is but a child.” Lord Varys objects. “It might be taken as an insult.”

“Better Prince Tommen than Prince Viserys. Did the dragons not use the same manner to bring Dorne into the Seven Kingdoms? ” Pycelle says. 

“A good answer Maester”, Lord Renly, “you’re good for something after all. My nephew is a second son, should a need for alliance arise, he would be of better use there.. Perhaps Princess Myrcella instead, for one of Prince Doran’s sons, Your Grace.” 

“Whichever can bring the Dornish to heel, and guarantees their loyalty.”

“Send a letter to the Prince of Dorne.” The King says, “inviting him under royal decree to the capital for reconciliation. It’s time the hatchet is buried.”

“And if he refuses, Your Grace?” Ser Barristan asks. 

“ Then it counts as an act of treason.” The room goes tense at the King’s answer. “Are those not the grounds that Aerys put forth when he asked for our heads Ned.”

“They are, Your Grace. But, you just spoke of maintaining peace, surely you cannot mean to start a war. The conquerors could not conquer Dorne and they had dragons.” Ned counters. 

“I have no choice Ned. ” The King roars at him, “Something is brewing. I feel it in my bones, and we must be ready.”

“The company has no ships, even if he wins their favor.” He says. He knows its a weak argument but he cannot help himself, they just fought a war, this is foolishness. 

“Yet, Lord Hand, they are many that could aid the Targaryen boy in that.” Lord Baelish says, “from the Greyjoys to the Velaryons perhaps even the reach.”

“You forget yourself, Little finger,” Lord Renly spits, “ My brother broke Balon and his heir is housed in the north under the Lord Hand’s care, House Velaryon is sworn to House Baratheon of DragonStone and House Tyrell will soon be joined in marriage with them. Accusations will cause more trouble than what heads our way already. ”

The master of coin quieted with a twisted mouth and Ned has never been so thankful for Renly. 

“The dragonspawn dies either way, but we must be ready for war. I have been too lenient with their like, too weak. Send the missive as soon as this meeting is over. I’ll try my hand at peace but if it’s war they want, it’s war they’ll get.” 

\----------------------------------------------------------

He spends lunch with his daughters, aware that the more time they spend in the capital, the less he’ll be able to see them due to official duties. The meal is pigeon and turnips soup spiced with cloves and black peppercorn, the kitchens add lemon cakes to their meal, for Sansa under the instruction of Prince Joffrey. 

He hears her gushing over the gesture with Jeyne while he speaks with Vayon regarding a stewardess for the girls in conjunction with the teachings of Septa Mordane. The Queen offered to have Sansa attend lessons with Princess Myrcella but after the incident at the trident, Ned is wary of her. 

He can still hear Arya’s cries over her friend’s death, and the Queen’s insistence on her punishment and the killing of the direwolves, when she was denied the former. He is forever thankful to whomever set the beasts free and hopes they’d return to Winterfell.

The lunch ends peacefully, Jeyne and Sansa are excused to walk the gardens under the supervision of the Septa, and he is about to visit Master Coleman before the man returns to the Vale when he notices that Arya had barely eaten, choosing instead to swirl the contents of her soup. She’s been withdrawn since the death of the butcher’s boy, barely having much life to her. 

_ He wonders if this is what Lyanna was like, on her last breath. _

“Is the food not to your liking?” He asks, taking a seat by her side. 

“It’s alright.” He barely heard her. “Then what is wrong Arya? Are you quarreling with Sansa again?” 

“No, she’s annoying still but no.” 

Ned chews on his lip to avoid laughing, she notices his struggle though and gives him a smile brighter than he has seen since they left Winterfell. 

“Then what is wrong little wolf? I know you miss Nymeria and the butcher’s boy but I’m sure there are other friends to make, like Prince Tommen perhaps.” The Prince had taken a liking to Arya, and seemed to enjoy her companionship. 

“His name was Mycah.” She spits out with tearful eyes. He is ashamed and hurt, but filled with pride, of course she’d remember his name. Arya cared not for titles, she only cared for the heart. 

“And he was my friend, and…, and I” She bursts into tears before she is able to complete her words. He can only hold her to his heart, rocking her side to side like she was a babe again. 

“What the Hound did was terrible and wrong, I wish I could have prevented it Arya. This place, and these people are different from all you have known and met before. Their intentions are not always good, you must guard your heart and all the people you hold dear, lest you might lose them.” 

“Like aunt Lyanna, like you lost her.” she chokes out. 

“Yes, like Lyanna. And Brandon, and Benjen, and Father. Tell me the people that reside in your heart Arya.” 

She sniffles and rubs her eyes before replying, “ You, mother, Robb and Theon, Sansa, Bran and Rickon, Old Nan and Hodor, Jory and Jeyne. Winterfell, the North.” 

“Yes, Arya. The pack,Winterfell, and the North are in my heart too. When the snows fall and the white winds blow, the lone wolf dies..” He looks to her. 

“..but the pack survives.” She completes. 

“Be true and protect your pack, Arya. No matter how annoying its members can be. Can you promise me that?” 

She wipes her tears and nods. 

“Good. I love you little wolf.” and with that he leaves for Maester Coleman’s chambers. 

\---------------------------------------------

When he reaches the maester’s chambers, he finds the door opened. Looking into the room, it is almost like a storm has passed through it. His clothes, equipment and books are strewn all over. And the man in question is seated at his table dazed. 

“Are you well Maester?” The man gives his no answer causing Ned to snap his fingers in his ears. 

He jolts then turning to meet him and Ned recognizes the look of fear when he sees it. 

_ What could have caused this? _

“Are you well Maester?” he repeats. 

“Fine, My Lord. Just worried is all. Why did you seek me out?” the maester inquires almost irritated. 

“ You treated Lord Arryn on his deathbed. What exactly was the cause of his ailment?” 

“ I did, Lord Stark but only for a time. Grand Maester Pycelle stepped in to aid, where I failed. Till this day, I remain unaware of what took the man. He was hale one moment and gone the next.” 

“Have you contacted the citadel to ask about his symptoms? If this is another Spring sickness? Surely you have made inquiries?”

“I am a learned man, Lord Stark. I treated and monitored members of the Arryn household, days after Lord Arry’s passing. I discerned that this is no plague but an unfortunate illness.You’ll be better off discussing this with Grand Maester Pycelle.” 

_ He’s surmised that, but he’ll cover every base. _

“How much of Lord Arryn’s household remains in the capital?”

“Some remain, My Lord. Cooks from the kitchens, a squire turned knight and a handful of household knights. Our Lady of the Vale has asked for our return after the mourning period for Lord Arryn.” 

_ On the morrow, they’ll be leaving on the morrow. _

He bids the maester a safe trip and heads to his chambers. 

\-------------------------------------------------------------------

He is a few hours into work, when the guard informs him that the Spider is without. Ned offers the man a seat, pouring some honeyed wine for his refreshment. 

“With what might I provide assistance Lord Varys?” 

“Nothing My Lord, just wanted to congratulate you on your appointment as the Hand. Not many men can step into Lord Arryn’s position effortlessly and comfortably run it.” 

The man speaks too softly and sweetly for his liking. _ Sweet words hiding poison. _

“It is just my first month in the capital. I would advise that you hold your praises till at least a year, Lord Varys.” 

The Spider chuckles, “You’re the second most powerful man in the Kingdom, Lord Stark, a friend to the King and a man of honor too. You might just save us all.” 

His ire rises at that, sweet poisons he can tolerate but he would prefer a man to be frank in speech. 

“Is there an actual reason for this visit, Lord Varys? You have caught me at a time with much work and I would rather not have my time wasted.”

“Yes, indeed my Lord. I just wonder about your hesitancy concerning the fate of the last Targaryen. The boy would lead murderers, and liars, bastard born alike to destroy the country. Is it not more fortuitous to deal with the threat before it grows too large?”

“That’s cowardly Lord Varys, and lacking in honor. The Prince is a green boy for all we know, you expect too much from him. Your sources claim that he is in talks with the company, nothing has been decided as of yet.”

“ I understand that but the blood of the Dragon will not be sated. It will claim what it thinks it’s due, Lord Stark. You of all people understand that.”

_ Lyanna. _

“Did the King send you then?” _ Does Robert not trust him? _

“I understand your honor and your reservations Lord Stark, truly. Children are not their parents, most times. Perhaps the King can still be convinced to let the boy be.”

_ Ned doubts that. Robert’s madness is the Targaryens. _

“Perhaps. Lord Varys, while I have you here. Can you tell me if anything was off with Lord Arryn before his death? I spoke to his household Maester, the man was healthy. Such a death is strange, is it not?”

“Lord Arryn was almost eighty years of age, Lord Stark. He was a robust but old man, many things could have caused his death, if that is what you’re asking.”

“He was the same man that had served the realm for the past ten and seven years. All I know is that, he was often in the company of Lord Stannis.” 

_ Why Lord Stannis? _

“Well, thank you for you aid Lord Varys.” 

“I live to serve, Lord Stark.”

\-----------------------------------------------------

Ned and his family have supped, with the King since their arrival at King’s Landing. He usually relives old tales with his friend, while Sansa and Jeyne are entertained by the jester and Arya trades tales with Prince Tommen. 

Tonight though is different, for whatever reason Robert is not in attendance. Ned wonders it is because of the meeting earlier. He watches Sansa preen under the praise of the Queen for her bright blue dress, that make her eyes shine like the sea on a sunny day. Arya too is in a dress, he’ll have Septa Mordane to thank for that, though he can spot her riding breeches underneath. The doors open and Ned is dumbfounded to see a younger Robert standing with Lord Renly. 

“Cousin Gendry!” The younger Prince and Princess shriek as they’ve moved to embrace him toppling him over. 

_ Stannis’s son. _

“Move before you crush him.” Lord Renly says and Princess listens moving to place a kiss on her uncle’s cheek. Prince Tommen though pays no heed to the words said, as he continues to talk and smile at his cousin. From where he sat, Ned can hear words like tourney, jousting and horse-riding. 

It is until the Queen speaks that the younger Prince listens. Ned notices that her lips are pulled in a tight smile as she welcomes both men to join the table.

“Lord Stark.” the boy’s booming voice greets. 

“Gendry. It’s good to finally put a face to the name.” He finds himself unable to look away from him even as he sits. _ Gods be good. _

“Have you seen him Ned?” Robert roars into the room with a big smile on his face. “Tell me that’s not me while we lived in the Vale under Lord Arryn.” 

“Stand boy, let Lord Stark see you.” 

“ I have Your Grace, no need to bother his meal.” Robert smiles at that patting the boy’s shoulder and taking his seat by the Queen’s side. 

“Renly says you still suckle at your mother’s teat, Gendry. Is that true?” The boy looks sharply at his chucking uncle as his cheeks turn pink.

“ I simply missed my mother and sister, during my stay at Storm’s end, Your Grace. It has been a while since I’ve seen them last.”

“You should read the letters they write to him every moonturn. My rookery is full to the brim. I have the mind to charge your father for the many ravens I’ve lost.”

Roberts roars in laughter. “There is no crime in being your mother’s son lad, just be a man when the time comes.”

The Queen clicks her tongue, “What man can one make claim to be if you hide behind your mother's skirts?”

“I must have misspoken, Your Grace. I do not hide behind my mother’s skirts. I only cherish her and Shireen’s company dearly.”

“None of that Cersei, You cannot call the man a coward for loving his mother. Do your sons not cherish you?”

“Has your mother began arrangements for your wedding to.., who was it again lad?”

“Lady Margaery Tyrell, Your Grace. Not yet, I am not done with my wardship at Storm’s End.”

“ That needs not be. I will speak to your father as soon as arrives, your marriage can be moved closer. We’ll spar sometime boy. I have a feeling, you’re the only one in this stinking capital that can take me on without fear. Well except you, Ned.”

“I will be honored, Your Grace.” 

The dinner goes on without a hitch, with the King’s continuous questioning of Gendry. 

  
**Daenerys **

She and Pa are sorting through old books and documents when the grunting noises begin. Ever since Valarr stole Jordis, the entire camp has listened to their coupling day and night. Dany frankly did not think that the lanky man had it in him to steal a woman. Pa Aemon’s face twists into a grimace and she laughs at that, as she continues rummaging through some letters. 

She encounters a stack of letters rolled with a ribbon of black and red. They are scrolls finer than she has ever felt and at a short glance the lettering dance and curve in every word written. _ Rhaegar Targaryen-Crown Prince of the Seven Kingdoms _ is the writer of one _ . _Pa has before claimed her brother as one of his many regrets, as vaguely as the old man could put it anyway. So she tucks the stack to the side where his hands won’t reach, hoping that the letters shine a light on her elusive brother.

She excuses herself when the night draws closer to prepare supper. It is simple roast deer with boiled greens she’d picked. Keeping the skin, horns, and hoofs to trade. Supper is a quiet affair and Dany fears that he is aware of the letters she took. Afterwards, Shewatches as he lays under his furs and pretends to do the same, waiting for his snores to begin. 

She counts to a hundred once his snores begin, leaving the tent as soon as she grabs the stack. She reaches the oak some distance from the camp, and lights a wick since the moon is halved. Removing the ribbon and tying it around her hair she reads the first letter she pulls open: 

—————————————————————-

_ Dearest Brother, _

_ I thank the gods for your good health and your companionship, as I would be unable to share these dreams with anyone else, lest I be deemed mad like Aerion. I am unable to find sleep as the same dreams plague me. I know his face by heart now, the boy that will bring the dragons back. He is my son, Aemon, I know it, his face is like mine but his eyes are mother’s. I will keep my egg for him, and begin searching for more on Dragonstone. _

_ Aegon V Targaryen, King of the Seven Kingdoms. _

————————————————————-

She shivers as she reads the letter through, remembering her dreams of dragons. There was no such boy in her dreams, _ or at least his eyes were not purple _. Instead, her dreams contained a dragon black as sin with eyes like blood, that liked to watch her; taunt her to come closer though she never did. Choosing to wake instead and in tears most times. 

She skims through the stack with a name in mind and she finds it. 

———————————————

_ Dearest Rhaegar, _

_ The salt and smoke of Summer-Hall were present for your birth but no bleeding stars flew above and no dragons were woken from stone,with the exception of yourself. Princeling Aegon, is the one instead, a dragon woken under a sun red like blood. Barth has previously claimed that the Sun is also a star. A brilliant case, as prophecy has never been straight forward. _

_ Maester Aemon of the Nights Watch _

—————————————————-

She pauses her process at the sound of snow crunching beneath boots, the wick burns too low for her to see beyond the shadows of the leaves above. Setting the stack down, and with one hand on her dagger, she ventures forward trying to discern the shapes around. Another crunch turns her head right, the sound is coming from deeper into the haunted forest. She firmly grasps the hilt of her dagger praying that her hands don’t slip when the time comes.

She walks into the forest, unable to see anything but a few tree trunks that lay before her. Avoiding branches, she hears the gasps of heavy breathing and stalks towards it.Something moves queerly by the side of her vision and a sharp turn reveals some fur covering behind a tree. it wave and shakes in the cold wind and Dany sheathes her dagger as she calls out,

“Who’s there? I won’t hurt you.”

She almost misses the reply, a soft voice answers “ I’m looking for the healer”, there is a short pause followed by sniffling. “I heard that a healer was nearby.”

“Yes, he is. Why do you need a healer?” Dany answers, omitting her relation until she determines that the lady is no threat. 

“I am with child. My babe and I need help.” The figure moves from behind the tree. She is a pretty skinny thing with eyes like that of a child’s, Dany notices the dampness of her coat. She is drenched and shaking.

Offering her hand and clasping her coat around the girl, when she takes it, she speaks, “The healer is my uncle, come with me.” 

The girl leans on her and together they slowly walk towards the settlement. 

——————————————————-

Her name is Gilly and Pa learns that she is three moons pregnant which is a wonder that she and her baby are not dead. She is gaunt like a branch with sallow skin and sunken eyes. Looking more like a child than a woman of ten and seven. 

She and Pa take care of her, she bathes for the girl- washing and braiding her hair and scrubbing her skin till the yellow tint is lesser. Dany is reminded once again about the practices of most freefolk when Gilly is unsure about the idea of a bath. They hardly wash themselves. 

Gilly ravenously consumes their leftover deer and gets drunk on the warm wine. 

“I’ve had this before.” She says about the wine. 

“Really? When?” though Gilly says nothing in reply. It does not escape Dany’s eyes, the way her shoulders and spirit seem to sag lower. She notes not to ask again.

Gilly picks a pale pink fur lined dress to sleep in and sleeps by Dany under the warm furs. 

———————————————

By the time she realizes her blunder, three whole days had passed since she found Gilly. Under the oak tree, she curses herself looking for remnants of the scrolls she left. All she had to understand her brother and her dreams, were soggy and coming apart in her fingers. 

_ gods, I’m a fool. _Her nails dig into her scalp and she cries. 

_ The lights outside are blinding, the floor is lined with rows of benches and tables and it smells of strong drink, burned meat and cooked bread, much fresher than she’s ever had. Her mouth waters and she is about to turn to the kitchens when she notices that she is alone, save for the man by the window, drinking. _

_ Are not more people meant to be in inns? _

_ She moves closer to him, as quietly as her steps will allow. His shadow is a bird. _

_ “Should I have done more?” She stops when he speaks. _

_ Should she reply? _

_ Does he know she’s here? _

_ He looks up at her, “Daenerys, I asked a question little one.” _

_ His smile is wide and beautiful, but he eyes are sad. _

_ “You did your best.” She answers, trying to cheer him up. Instead he throws his head back in laughter, revealing a neck with red-spots that pulse with blood and pus. _

_ “I walked right into that one with all the rubbish Aemon’s teaching you.” _

_ She is about to ask how he knows pa ,when his countenance changes and gone are the laughter lines, his jaw is set and brows tense. _

_ “Wake the dragon.” _

———————————--

“You can close an eye if you need to focus. Don’t hunch over. Stand straight, but let your muscles be at ease, and shoot.” Gilly’s first bulls-eye has her jumping and smiling with glee.

Gilly has stayed in the settlement for a month now being the kindest person that Dany has ever met. She threads fur to make wool and knits it into hats and socks for the babes, skins deer faster than either Dany or Newlyn, and has a beautiful singing voice that Pa enjoys. 

She’d been eager to learn how to use a bow and at first Dany asked Jararmir, brother to Jorarund to teach her since he was better with the long-bow than she was but it was a terrible lesson. Gilly was irritated and snapped anytime the boy came up behind her to straighten her aim. Dany had to eventually send him away with watered wine and deer skin as a compensation, deciding to take time to teach Gilly herself. 

When she talked to Pa about the experience, he suspected the same as she did. The father of the babe had been unkind to Gilly. Dany was no stranger to such, hearing stories of stolen women who fought so hard that the men would kill them. It made her shudder. 

It had taken them almost a week to get to this point, with Gilly’s slippery fingers and shaking hands and watching now as all the arrows she shot hit the target dead center. Dany is certain that no man will ever hurt Gilly again. 

——————————————--

“Are you a witch?” She looks up to Gilly. Her cheeks are flushed from the warmed wine and the heat of the furs as she listens to Dany read one of Septon Barth’s books on her family. 

“My sisters said that crones have silver hair, because they’ve lived a long time and worked evil crafts.” She explains.

“I’m just as old as you. I was born like this.” 

“And your eyes too?” Dany nods yes, watching as her head fills with questions. 

“Are you a princess? Where are you from?” Dany closes the book, sets it to the side and moves under the furs with Gilly. 

“If you are going to ask me questions Gilly, do I get to ask you too?” 

She worries her bottom lip in silence but Dany is not willing to let up on the possibility of knowing her some more. She nods yes after a while. 

“My family is from the lands beyond the wall and they were my father’s and my brother’s for a while. He was the King.”

“Did your father hurt you too? Is that why your here?” 

“No, he hurt other people and my brother.., he stole a lady and raped her. The family of the lady killed them, and if I were on the other side, they’d kill me too.”

Gilly takes a while to speak. “but you didn’t hurt them.”

“No, I didn’t. Haven’t yet. But I am a threat to my father’s throne that they sit on.”

Her hands are warm as they squeeze Dany’s. 

“How many sisters do you have?” Dany asks. 

“Many. I truly don’t know them all” This confuses her. 

“How many wives does your father have?” Her grip tightens so much that it hurts. But Dany doesn't let go. 

“Do you know who Craster is?” She asks in turn. but before Dany can reply she answers. 

“He is an evil man that has made me and my sisters cursed before the old gods. I am an abomination and so is my babe.” 

Dany thinks on the things that would make one abominable to the free-folk. And only one thing comes to mind.

Incest. 

“My mother is my sister, my son is my brother, my father is my grandfather. The gods have surely cursed me and they’ll curse you too for the help you’ve given us.” She mistakes the look of Dany's face for fear and begins to cry. "I'm sorry, I should have told you first but we needed the help."

Dany wipes the tears on her face with a sleeve. 

“I was cursed before you came Gilly. My family has married sister to brother for centuries. My parents were brother and sister, and their parents too. I would have been my brother’s wife, if I were born earlier.”

_She doesn’t add that she wishes she was. Mayhaps she could have saved her family. _

"The stories are about them, aren't they? She asks. 

"Yes. My blood is tainted with madness, it's our curse."

"You're not like that." She argues causing Dany's heart to ache. 

"Maybe. Maybe not. All I sure of is that, us cursed folk will stick together.” Dany says, kissing her eye-lids. heart jumpling at the giggle she earns. 

———————————————————--

Dany is not hungry for supper but rather answers. She’s only dreamt the oak tree dream for almost two moons, no other explanation but madness. Pa’s distaste for prophecies made her hesitant at first but not anymore. 

“Why did Aegon think he could bring the dragons back at Summer-Hall?” He is surprised by the question and pauses. Gilly on the other hand continues her meal but is clearly listening. 

“We dreamed of it, my dear Dany. All my brothers and I, we all dreamed of dragons. None more than Daeron though but all our dreams of dragons are nothing but ash now.” His laugh is hollow. 

“Daeron claimed that his dreams came true and yet he would drink and whore like there was no tomorrow,Aerion drank wildfire because he thought he could turn into a dragon-a mad man, and the tragedy of Summer-Hall, …., that is all Aegon’s doing.” 

“He dreamt of a boy that brought the dragons back.” She says, a stupid move but Dany is tired of the vague words Pa hides behind. 

He takes a deep breath and swallows some wine before speaking, “I wondered where those letters were. Have you read them all? Can you see how dreams ruined our house?” His words cut deep but Dany is grateful that he remains soft-spoken even in anger.

“Daeron, your brother, has sandy hair and a blonde beard, his neck is covered in spots that ooze blood and pus.I’ve dreamt of him.” There is no point in hiding now. 

He recoils at that. 

“Dreaming of the dead isn’t exactly dragon-dreams Dany.” 

“Daenys dreamt of what was to come. Her dreams saved us from the doom. Did they not?.” She roars, tired of his avoidance. 

“That was centuries ago, the dragons still lived and magic existed. Besides some scholars believe that House Targaryen most likely left the free hold because of problems, not exact prophecy.”

_ He cannot possibly believe that.  _

“But Rhaegar had these dreams too.” 

“And like fools, we both tried to solve them and it led to our ruin. Sometimes the dreams are just that dreams, with no meaning.”

“Do you dream?” She asks. 

“ Of heat and leathery wings.” his smile is sad. “It means nothing, just remnants of magic of Valyria in our blood. I will hear no more about dreams Dany.” He closes his eyes, a gentle yet firm closing of the discussion.

_ It can’t be true, surely. Why would she have them, if they meant nothing. _

The dragon returns to her later that night but this time she doesn’t back away from its stare. She instead moves closer and can almost see it smile at the action as it stands straighter, to a daunting full height. The heat it gives off scalds worse the closer she gets, and Dany is shocked that her skin has not melted off yet. 

Standing before it, she takes a hand to reach for it’s snout but it opens its mouth instead. She almost wants to run and hide, but what can withstand a dragon’s fire? 

_ Nothing, but another dragon. _

————————————————————

**Jon**

Asher is cheering the loudest as he drinks from a large flagon of wine. It is sour and hits the back of his throat hard, but he swallows more fighting the urge to visibly gag and empty his belly. By the time the flagon is empty, his beard is drenched, his bloused is stained and he’s panting like Ghost after a hunt but the cheers don’t die down and he takes a bow for his adoring audience.

Setting the jug on the table, he generously pays the inn-keep for the wine adding a few coins for the damage he caused to the chairs and bench he stood on. He staggers to the table where his friends sit. Only to be disrupted from taking one by the slims hands that wrap around his neck belonging to a fair-headed beauty. 

She smells sweet and her voice is like a song 

“Not many men can handle such strong drink.” She says, fingers threading through his beard up, pinching his cheeks on their way to his hair. 

“I do enjoy strong men.” 

“You’ll find better business elsewhere, Doreah.” He replies giving her a big grin.She returns his smile, “You realize that this is also a brothel Jon.”

“I do.I’m just interested in the food and the wine.” He replies, “besides I’m not the only man not partaking in the other offers services.” 

“And all the whores perish for it.” He laughs at that and even her lips twist to a smile. He’d helped the inn-keper during his first visit to the inn, and thus made fast friends with many of the whores that worked. Most were kind women trying to make a living, sold by brothers, fathers and sometimes even husbands. 

_ They were pleasure slaves in truth, working off debts. _ A terrible practice. 

She helped herself to the meal on the table, placing a kiss on her cheek before leaving. 

Beskha and Racallion are so engaged in their game of cards that his questions regarding Asher’s whereabouts go unanswered. 

Jon tears a chunk off the meal of salted roast fish and burnt bread.The bread is soft yet charred and the fish is coated with braavosi spices of cinnamon and nutmeg. He is rinsing the spices with watered wine when Asher appears, looking dour despite the wide smile on his face. 

“You’ve been beating cunts off with a stick all night.Especially after you let your hair down. You’re prettier than some girls I’ve met.”

He scowls at the use of the word, thinking back to the endless teasing endured from Viserys and Serena. 

“And yet you reject them, why?”

“A bastard doesn’t have the luxury of sleeping with whores.” 

_ I’m not better than the usurper, if I go about fathering bastards. _

Asher snorts into his cup, “My sister’s septa would disagree with you. Bastards are born of greed and lust after all, all they do is sleep with whores and gamble their father’s coin.” 

Jon raises and clinks his cup to the sentiment.

“Besides you don’t strike me as the kind of man that lives according to rules set by lesser men that rarely use their cocks. ”

“I do not care what lesser men think of me.” _ I am the blood of the Dragon and the Wolf. _“There is just no time for that, I would also like to be able to see my children.”

“Whores have means to ensure that coupling does not produce babes Jon. Take the edge off yourself.” 

“What about you Asher? You’ve been approached by many beauties and yet you deny their company with that sad look on your face.” Jon asks, eager to shift the conversation from himself.

The man stills at his words, eyes glazed with a faraway look that leaves Jon wondering why. Silence passes and then Asher asks “Have you ever loved a woman, Jon?” 

“None yet.” 

“I was like you once, except I actually used my cock” he chuckles, staring at his drink, “whoring and drinking and shaming my father, as he was oft to remind me. Then I met Gwyn.” 

His fingers dig into his coat, retrieving some cloth and handing it over to Jon. It is a sigil of a white pile inverted on indigo with an arch of seven, four pointed stars above. 

_ A lady _

“Was she betrothed to another?” Jon asks, all the sad love songs always went that way.

“I wish it were that easy.” 

“Our families have rivaled over the largest ironwood forest in Westeros for as long as anyone can remember. It belonged largely to House Whitehill for a while until my grandfather played good politics and left them with little to nothing.”

He stuffed his mouth with bread and took a drink afterwards, his eyes misty with remembrance.

Jon returns the badge, watching as the northman caresses and kisses it before tucking it back. 

“She made it for me, a parting gift. Our involvement with each other was not taken well by either family, and blood was shed. To bring peace, my father thought it best to send me to exile,for some time at least so he says.”

He swallows more wine before continuing, “So whores will never be enough for me. My heart belongs somewhere else.”

From the way the man lived his life, Jon was aware that something else laid underneath his chirpy demeanour, but never could he have thought that love was the crux of the problem. He wants to laugh and rage at that, love caused wars for his parents and for his friend, and all parties lost at the end. They always seem to lose at the end, at least Asher is alive.

“So when you get back, will you continue things? How does that work when she is most likely, married with children for her husband. You cannot possibly think that things will return as they were.How long do you plan to wait?”

“Until my father dies, and that old frog will croak soon enough. She is refusing betrothals for the time being.”

“Until her father forces one on her.” Asher winces at that. Is that not how Westeros worked? Daughters traded like chattel to the highest bidder? Was that not meant to be mother’s fate, until father came along? 

_ He shudders at the thought of his mother as the usurper’s wife. _

“Even if she is wed, her heart belongs to me still. As mine is hers.” 

He wants to remind the northman that some people find love in political marriages, his beloved might love another by the time he returns but he doesn’t permit the words from escaping. 

“Then I pray she is not wed, so your hearts can be together again.”

“Aye,'' the man answers, “to the seven and to the old gods.”

———————————————————————————————-

Watching Barbo fight was always a wonder. The man moved so fluidly, that Jon wondered how much water he was made up of. And yet Roat stood his ground at every slice of the dothraki’s arakh with just a spear, barely leaving the lines he’d drawn for himself in the sand. The sparring went on for sometime before the two men stopped, instructing the recruits to pair up. One with an arakh and the other with a spear. 

Using his spear to draw himself into a box, he stands firm facing his opponent. The man stands solidly, short and stocky with a wild sneer in his face. He immediately attacks with the arakh in continuous swings and hits, which Jon dodges. Jon is forced to dance to avoid the blade while keeping in his box. He can only do that for so long though, lightly inhaling when the blade cuts through his blouse and kisses his skin. Jon knows the wound is light, barely there but feeling the tingle of his flesh as his life-blood wets his skin annoys him. 

His ire rises more when the fool speaks, “Did I cut you pretty boy, what about your fancy blouse?” 

The man’s swings harder now, and Jon is surprised that the wood of the spear still holds up, especially when he can feel the ripples of the hits through his body nearly buckle his knees. 

Jon aims his spear at the gaps in his opponent’s limbs caused by his poor form and weapon handling, piercing his shoulder on the third try. The man gives a cry and his weapon leaves his grasp. Jon, in turn, kicks the weapon away and presses the spear deeper through the flesh forcing him on his knees. 

“That’s a lot for a light cut, boy.” A voice speaks from behind, Jon turns to a serjeant, whose name he can’t quite remember. Standing by his side is Roat, Jon tries and fails to get a read on his thoughts, as his face is stone. 

“Vengeful like a true bastard.”the serjeant says and Jon itches to smack his mouth in. 

“This is my favorite blouse.” Sewn by mother and made with love. 

“Passion good for fight.” Roat says, “but this is training not real fight.” 

What difference does it make, Jon thinks and looking at the man on his knees, whimpering and bleeding through his garment, he realizes that he doesn’t care. He says nothing in reply, making sure to remove the spear in the most painful way imaginable before moving to the next opponent. 

\---------------------------------

_ Ghost wanted for nothing more than the cold, that was his home and yet it wasn’t Aemon’s. No, his human’s home was the hot, stinky forest of brick and people, no snow and barely any trees. At least it cooled off during the night. Aemon usually led when they shared skins but the lad had drunk too much during supper. So he was just a passenger in their mind. _

_ Nose to the air, he checked for the scent of the beast. He’d smelt it earlier that day, the musky fur and tender flesh, as he sifted through the crowd of the marketplace. The full moon aided his sight and the gentle night breeze led him closer and closer to his meal. He felt Aemon stir in his mind, restless. _

_ Reaching a dull painted tent, the scent was strongest and he could almost taste it. Never making a sound, he moved through the opening flaps and over the pen that housed the beast. It is a small sized golden-bear hunched over some leaves. It senses him and turns baring teeth and claws, but Ghost is not perturbed as he circles it. _

_ It tries to run but Ghost is faster and grabs it rump, throwing it to the ground and snatching its throat. As teeth sinks into flesh, he watches the life leave the beast and begins to tear through the flesh. _

_ FUCK! _

He woke and spat into the bedding, reaching for his waterskin to rinse the dreadful taste from his mouth. He shuddered as every swallow of water made the taste of flesh more potent on his tongue. He grumbled when he realized that he would have to heave it from his belly. His head hurt too much for that. 

Ghost’s skin was a second home to him. Only mother understood that. Feeling the gentle night breeze through his fur, hunting, swimming and howling at the full moon, he never felt so alive. Ghost’s dreams were also his, they dreamt of home, snow and silver. 

Making sure to distance himself from his tent, he bends over to stick fingers down his throat to force the contents out of his stomach. Coughing and spilling. The foul smelling mess looks familiar to the previous night’s supper, that it causes him to heave, even more, emptying his stomach fully. 

“Are you alright?” a voice calls out. 

_ Wait he knew that voice, Vis! _

He turned and before him, in all his silver glory was Viserys, with a big grin on his face. His best friend, uncle and brother. Aemon has always looked up to him; he was older, stronger, and looked more Targaryen than him.

Something Aemon envied from time to time. 

They played together a lot when they were children, pretending to be the Targaryens in the stories, Ser Oswell read. 

“When did you get back?” He said as he moved to embrace him. They stood at the same height though his uncle was lankier. Up close Jon admired the silver-gold sheen of his beard and the lilac gloss of his eyes. 

“Ugh” Viserys groans, pushing him away with a sickened look and wrinkled nose, “don’t get vomit on my new blouse, Aems,”

He restrains himself from rubbing his face into the said blouse in the most undignified manner. 

“and I just rode back. How drunk are you?”

That surprises him, “I’m not drunk. I was in Ghost again. Why did you ride back so early??” 

Viserys chuckled, slapping a hand to his shoulder “I was wondering where the little beast was.” His uncle had a love-hate relationship with Ghost. Sometimes man and beast were capable of behaving pleasantly with one another but most times they avoided each other, baring teeth. Wolf against dragon. 

“ The Prince of Lys will support us, if I enter a betrothal with his sister.”

_ Haven’t people in their family done the same. _

“You won’t be the first to. Aren’t Lysene women, the most beautiful ones?” 

He replies wiggling his brows suggestively. Viserys had a weakness for beautiful women. It’s a wonder, he is without bastards. 

“Most Valyrian looking also.”

“Westeros will already think we are foreigners, I shudder to think what will be said if I marry a foreigner also.”

Aemon can only nod in agreement. They’ll only be making the usurper’s take down of their campaign easier. 

“What about Arianne Martell? To secure Dorne’s support?” 

He’s always had a fright for the Martells. and worry gnaws him concerning accepting their aid. 

Viserys huffs, “ The Prince of Dorne will most likely want his daughter to be the Queen, that’s the only payment for what happened to Princess Elia and her children.”

The air stills and guilt flits through it. 

“It is no fault of yours Aems.” 

“Will they see it that way? I’m my father’s mistake Vis, his sin.”

“Then I’m the fucking mad king!.” he screams moving to hold his face in his cold hands, “The guilt is not yours to carry. Don’t let it rest on your shoulders. Promise me.”

He only nods in reply. “Say the words Aems.” 

“I promise.” Vis embraces him then. “You owe me a new shirt.” 

Behind Vis, he spots a large man in discussion with Ser Arthur. 

“Who’s your friend?”

“A new ally, Ser Jorah Mormont. We met in Lys and he swore to our cause.” Jon finds it hard to believe a northman would bend to a Targaryen. His confusion must show on his face.

“You trust him?”

“Don’t be a fool Aemon, I don’t but some more protection and information on the Seven Kingdoms will be worth it.”

Jon scowls but can see the benefit. The knights have been away from home for long and Lady Ashara cannot risk visiting too frequently. 

Viserys speaks, “Also, I made him aware of you. Northerners are apparently a loyal bunch..” 

He hisses at that. “Why is he so far from the North then?” 

Viserys is quiet. 

“He is an exile. He sold people to slavers to pay off a debt”

“Is this a fucking joke? We’re in leagues with a slaver now.”

“We don’t exactly have a picking of allies right now, Your Grace.” Viserys sneers, “Do you have an army hidden, dragons stashed somewhere? At least give the man a chance before you condemn him.”

His blood is boiling but he stands upright when the man approaches with Ser Arthur by his side. 

“Ser Jorah.” He greets with a King’s voice. “My uncle calls you an ally. Is that so?”

“Yes, Your Grace. If you will it, I hope to serve House Targaryen.” 

“Then kneel Ser.”

The man takes position with his sword held in offering. 

“I offer my services, King Aemon. I will shield you back and keep your counsel and give my life for yours if need be. I swear it by the Old Gods and the New.”

“And I vow that you shall always have a place by my, hearth, and meat and mead at my table. And I pledge to ask no service of you that might bring your dishonor. I swear it by the Old Gods and the New. Arise, Ser.”


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Catelyn plans.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy new year to everybody. I wish you and your families the best the year has to offer. Whew, guys it's been a while and I'm sorry for taking this long, life happened. This is only P.O.V of what was to be the next installment in this work but I'm deciding to post it early because everything together seems daunting and scary. So I'm breaking up one chapter to two/three. I know it's short but it's just a reminder that I'm still here and this work is not abandoned. Frost and Fire is taking it's time but I can *hopefully* promise at least one more chapter for this and Frost and Fire before the end of the month.

**Catelyn**

“Maester Luwin, set aside two pounds of grain for every household. Lady Esme, you have the assurance that House Stark will apprehend the thieves that attacked your village.”

“Thank you milord.” the lady bowed, her crying babe clutched to her breast. Just on the outskirts of winter-town, thieves had struck the lady’s village killing her husband and burning their homes. Cat watched with pride as he sat and ruled on his father’s seat. Robb saw to the provisions of the people that sought aid of the lord of Winterfell. He sought the advice of the maester and herself, listened attentively and followed them when he could but chose his own decisions sometimes. She prayed that he would rule as wisely as Ned did. 

Desmor walked into the hall, fists tight around the arm of a boy that looked barely ten and three. Skinny as a twig with tattered robes, he lurched the boy forward, his knees meeting the ground. 

“My Lord, this boy claims to be sent from Lord Stark himself?” Desmor said in obvious disbelief, pushing him before Robb. 

“I ain’t said such. The captain of the house sent me. I ain’t no liar.” the boy spat back. 

_ Captain of the house. Does he mean Jory? _

“Jory?” Robb asked. “Why would Jory send you back?”

“I’m meant to return them wolves. Vicious things.” At that moment a howling sounded out and running into the hall were Nymeria and Lady. Cat’s heart dropped to her belly. Despite her chiding, her girls loved their wolves. She tried to stop them from taking the beasts to the capital but both girls were stubborn, even Sansa. What in the seven’s name could separate them?

“Maester Luwin call off the petitioners for the day.” She ordered, the maester bowed and Robb’s lips thinned in displeasure. “Mother-” he called out but she waves him away, “ Do you take wine boy?” She asked to which the boy paled, his eyes widening in fear before Desmor smacked him again, “answer the Lady cretin.”

“yes, my lady.” He stammered. 

“Good. Get some wine.” She ordered a maid. “Let us move somewhere private.”

~***~

Her stomach sunk even lower as the boy explained the events at the Trident. Arya’s actions were wrong and striking a prince was a grievous offence even when the dragons ruled, a shudder ran through her at the thought of the mad king burning her child. Yet, the Lannister woman’s response shook her, calling for lashing of the sister of her good daughter to be was harsh. 

“Get him a bed for the night and food for his belly. Tomorrow he can begin work in the stables.” she said. 

“I thank you, milady.” the boy replied. Looking into his eyes now, he couldn’t be more than ten years of age, only two years younger than Arya. She admired his bravery, Lady was as sweet as Sansa but a wolf still, and Nymeria was just another Arya. It must have taken a great toll on his person to herd them to Winterfell. 

“What is on your mind mother?” Robb asked, when the boy left, his fingers running through Grey Wind’s fur. He was the largest of the pack, twice the girls’ wolves. 

“Our family.” She answered.

He sighed, “I’m just glad the wolves made it back. They can go hunting together in the wolfs-wood.” He smiled at his childish desires wondering if ned was in error to go to the capital. 

“I wish you’re father had never left.” 

“ I doubt father could reject His Grace.” Ned could have, he claimed that Robert was a brother like Brandon was. gods, were her family safe? 

She stood, “get Theon, Ser Rodrik, and Maester Luwin to the godswood in ten minutes.”

Robb’s brows pinched together, blue eyes watching in earnest.

“When you get there, I’ll explain.” She promised, moving from the antechamber. She needed furs, it was too cold outside. 

She stood by the heart tree, fingers stained by it blood red sap when her son arrived with the knight, the ward and maester. “My lady.” they all greeted. 

“Before I speak, you all must swear by the gods of your fathers’ to never utter a word of what will be said here.” And so they did, Ser Rodrik and Robb by the old, the maester by the Seven and Theon Greyjoy by the drowned. 

“The Lannisters killed Jon Arryn.” All eyes around her, save for the maester, widened.

“My lady.” Ser Rodrik spoke first, “Are you certain of this accusation?” 

She nodded to the maester and he replied, “A rider came at dawn with a missive from Lady Arryn bearing the news.” Grey Wind growled lowly, his sharp teeth on display. 

“ Lysa informed Lord Stark and I while the king stayed under our roof.”She added, 

“Why then did he go to the capital?” Robb asked. “If this is true.”

“It is true.” She responded, “Sansa is set to marry the Prince and the King is your father’s closest friend, if Theon were in danger, would you not try to save him?” 

“Yes I would, mother. But I would hope he’d have the sense not to walk into danger in the first place.” He argued back the other bodies in the woods growing quiet. 

“Well the King has no such choice. The danger he faces is along the path of his doing his duty to the realm.” 

“We should send more guards to the capital. To keep them safe.” Ser Rodrick advised. “The King and Lord Stark fought side by side against the mad king. I’m sure no harm would come to him under His Grace’s protection but more men would keep my Lady’s mind at ease.” Her heart ached at the thought, all she wanted was her family safe. 

Perhaps,she thought, the advice had merit but one could never be sure. “No that will attract too much attention. Pen letters to the Vale and Riverrun, maester, I’ll be visiting my family.Seven save us,at least if it comes to war, the North will not stand alone.”

“What about father and the girls?” Robb asked, his tone adamant. “I cannot risk going to the capital just as we cannot send more guards, but I'll write to my friend, Lord Baelish, he sits on the King’s small council. I trust him to protect your father.”

All three men looked skeptical, opening their mouths to speak but she stopped the, 

“Petyr is in my debt. Let your mind be at rest.”

Will I have to marry then?” Robb asked, his face as red as his hair. The greyjoy snickered by his side and received a glare from her son. 

Her heart squeezed, and she let herself see a future with Robb ruling from his father’s seat, a wife by his side and his heirs filling the keep with the sound of babes again. It was a beautiful dream, she prayed the warrior would stay his sword and let the mother’s peace reign in the capital. War had once stolen her dreams. 

“Maester Luwin, begin a list of eligible ladies in the north and south. I’ll go through them once I return. Winterfell is yours, Robb, as it is your father’s and his father, rule as wisely as you have been in my presence.”

Her son stood upright, his gaze met hers steady. “Aye.”

~***~

It was a cold and windy day, when the crannogman came to take her son away. The boy atop his pony, chest puffed with a brave smile on his face looked so different from the boy that cried when she informed him of his father’s plans. Ned took Bran’s dreams away,  _ but I want to be a knight, _ he complained.Yet neither herself nor Robb heard any more of it afterwards, instead he focused on learning as much as he could about the crannogmen from Septon Chayle and Maester Luwin. 

The retinue was meager, consisting of twelve knights with swords strapped to their hips, a robed woman and the lord of greywater-watch himself; small and skinny, his green coat swallowed him whole, his only defining feature were his green eyes, deep and dark like a marshy swamp. Lizard men, Lysa called them, they ate flies and climbed walls, their swamps bound with sorcery as old as the land itself. It was said the keep of House Reed was always moving. She waved those thoughts away as the lord leapt off his horse and neared to greet them 

“My lord, My lady.” 

“Lord Reed, it’s good to finally meet my father’s dear friend. Are you sure your retinue cannot stay for a night?” They’d partaken in guest rights and offered warm beds from the night but the lord refused with a smooth politeness

“No my lord, though I am grateful my wife is eager for my quick return.” Was that his whore then”, she thought, looking at the robed figure, her cowl obscured her face but the manner in which the rest of the cloak laid on the body underneath and the gracefully posture atop the horse, were proof that she was no whore. She was at least taught by a septa in a keep. Cat watched her head bend back as she looked about the keep from the top to the bottom until her face reached hers. She made no move to look away, instead she cocked her head to the side. A movement she’d seem Grey Wind use, in watching prey.

Cat raised her chin, making no move to look away either, a strange coil twisting in her belly. This was her keep. “I wish you safe travels then, my Lord.” Robb was saying by her side to which Lord Reed greeted them once more before getting back on his horse and riding away. The robed woman and Bran on his both sides. 

She stood in the courtyard for a moment after the retinued left, gathering her strength, she would miss her boy but work needed to be done. 

~***~

A fortnight later, on the eve of her departure, she was heading to a meeting where she would assign duties to the stewards when she was approached by the maester holding a letter. 

“Is that a reply from the Vale?” She asked. Edmure had replied quickly but her sister hadn’t.

“No, my lady. A hawk brought this not a raven. It’s from Starfall.” 

She tensed at the maester’s words. “What does it say?” 

“ It is addressed to Lord Eddard.” The maester said handing the letter to her. 

She willed her hands not to shake as she held the letter. It was scented, something flowery like an open field during spring. She dismissed the maester and continued to the meeting, her heart thundering at each step. 

It was after supper, and she was enjoying a cup of Arbor gold when she saw the dreaded letter again. She’d hidden it afterwards, afraid of the urge that consumed her to rip it open. Ashara Dayne haunted her marriage during its first years, like a ghost whispers of her name sound through the halls of Winterfell, from maids to cooks to even her Ned’s soldiers. 

_ She danced with Lord Eddard, they said. The dornish-woman made the quiet wolf howl. _

_ We shared a dance in Harrenhal _ , was all Ned had told her,  _ nothing more _ . Before quieting the ghosts for good. Yet, Cat was haunted by glimmering violet eyes and shiny black shiny, especially during her deliveries as she birthed one red-hair, blue-eyed child after the other. She loved her children but it was until Arya that she gained a peace of mind. See, she wanted to say when she was first placed in her arms, a babe with your coloring. 

Would Lady Ashara have given him all children of black and brown hairs, with grey solemn eyes like his forebears? or would they be violet like hers? She didn’t know, she prayed that Rickon would be like Arya but he too came out fair-haired. Her hand crept to her belly, she and Ned coupled during the king’s visit.  _ One more child, a boy like Ned. _

The woman had never contacted Winterfell before, Cat would know. She searched for correspondences in Ned’s solar once, during the Greyjoy’s rebellion. She found nothing to prove an affair with the dornish woman had ever occurred, and her love for Ned soared during the years after. 

The wine was sickly sweet as she twirled the letter betwixt her fingers, she itched to know its contents. Declarations of love? or mentions of a child perhaps. A shiver ran through her at the thought,  _ a bastard _ . The dornish had treated them as true-borns, instead of casting them out as the greedy things they were. She balked at the challenge to her children’s claims such as child would be. Robb’s children would never know peace. 

She would not have it. She and Ned had built love out of an arranged proposal, despite not knowing each other well enough.  _ Like she’d known Brandon _ . She had done her duty and birthed trueborn children for Ned, despite their coloring, they were Starks and their claims to the North would remain honored. 

Her family came first. 

And so Cat tossed the letter into the hearth and watched it shrivel and burn until it was no more, making a note to swear the maester to secrecy on the morrow. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please leave kind comments and tell me what you think.


	8. Ned

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ned learns stuff.

**NED**

_ The seed is strong. _ He has thought on those words since the Grand Maester uttered them weakly in his hot room. What could Lord Arryn have meant? It was made worse by Maester Coleman’s departure from the capital. He hoped his guards would reach the man on time. He couldn't have gone too far on the King's Road. Would the man have known what the phrase meant? Others take him, he should have met with the Grand Maester first, perhaps then he’d be closer to unraveling the enigma. He visited the library asking about the books that Lord Arryn frequently read before his death and none of them were remarkable enough to cause the death of a hand. 

He spends the rest of the afternoon completing a message to Dorne. Despite Robert’s brashness, Ned is not thirsty for war and arranged a reconciliation, extending an olive branch to the kingdom and a position on the small council. He has almost completed a draft for the message when a page boy knocks with a summon from the King. He feels lighter, Robert rages, yes, but the man could never rage for too long. That is one of the many things he appreciated about him. 

Before he could leave his chambers, Septa Mordane begs for an audience and reports that Arya was not only rude but had missed her tutoring altogether, opting instead to chase cats. _ Perhaps the Braavosi first sword was a bad idea _. The woman looks like she wants to rip her hair out and he can’t help but be amused, imagining that she would have probably done so if Arya was Lyanna. He finds his daughter muddied and crouching underneath a stairwell, a black tom cat just mere feet away. He can see the sweat collect on her forehead and the way her skinny legs quiver under the strain of being in the same position for a long time. He watches in horror as she leaps to capture the beast and fails painfully, landing on the ground in a thud that results in wincing and blood on her chewed lip. 

“Arya, what are you doing?” 

“Catching cats” she replies, crawling. 

“I thought Syrio was training you in the sword.”

“He is father,” she answers turning to look at him, “truly.”

“I don’t recall chasing cats when I was learning swordplay.” He takes out a handkerchief to wipe the blood off her lip.

“It’s a different kind of swordplay, he calls it water-dancing” she explains, smiling with glee.

_ She truly enjoys this. _

He clears his throat, “Septa Mordane says you’ve been missing your lessons.” She looks ashamed but unrepentant, shrugging “I was busy with swordplay lessons.”

“And you can't do both?”

“There isn’t enough time in the day for both.”

“Okay then, Syrio’s lessons will be every other day,” he says, delighting in the way her eyes widen. 

“No,”, she begs with a quiver of her bottom lip, “please, father. Syrio says I need to practice every day. Please.”

“You can practice every day" he emphasizes, "Just on your own.”

She huffs before rushing to him, “I’ll be present at Septa Mordane’s lessons everyday please. I’ll be good, just allow me train with Syrio too.” She holds his hands in hers, looking at him with a pout to her lips. Like a babe would. 

“I thought there wasn’t enough time to do both” He teases, fighting a smile as she scowls at her own words.

“I can do both. I promise I can, father.” She pleads. 

“Okay Arya. You promised and you must honor it. Do you understand?” She nods in quick succession before wrapping her arms around his waist. 

“Thank you!” 

~***~

He finds the king in the courtyard sparring with Gendry. It comes as no surprise that Robert is being bested by the boy. His footwork was all that remained of his fighting form, as his large limbs and belly prevented him from achieving much, slowing him down and leaving him heaving after little effort. But _ others take him _, watching the boy fight is a dream, he was sturdy in his footwork and unyielding under the King’s force, another trait that remained was Robert’s godlike strength, it was watching a large child get beaten with meager skills. The King finally stopped and laughed, nearly toppling over before his Lannister squire rushed to his side with a waterskin. 

“Get some rest son, we spar again before supper. That’ll help me work up an appetite.” The boy’s shirt was drenched in sweat. He bows to the King and greets him before returning to the castle, passing by the prince who was also sparring with a knight. 

“Your Grace” Ned announces, smiling at the heaving form of his friend. 

“Ah Ned, give me a minute to catch my breath. That boy had me worked up.” He says before gulping down the contents of the water-skin.

“Lancel or whatever the hell you name is. Get to the kitchens and bring some lunch up. Do you need anything, Ned?”

“Nothing, Your Grace.” The trembling steward bows before scampering away. 

“I hate that fool” the King says as they walk to a lustrous white canopy surrounded by the Kingsguard. He notes that Ser Barristan is not among them, the man has been scarce ever since the fateful council meeting. 

“My good-father makes me keep him around, his brother’s son.” Ned frowns at that, biting his tongue before he can point out that no one can make the king do anything. He is here for reconciliation. 

The meals come quickly enough, a rich array of meats and fish, bread and broth with sweetened cakes. He opts for some cooled milk to offset the dreaded heat of the capital and the sweetness reminds him of one of Sansa’s lemon cakes, bringing a smile to his face at the thought of her. 

“How’s the letter to the Dornish coming along?” Robert asks gorging himself on silces of smoked hams. 

“Well enough, Your Grace. I was just completing the draft.”

“And the Maester can’t be of help? Surely you do not plan to do all the work yourself.”

“Maester Pycelle has been of great help, but the Dornish issue is delicate. I’ll rest easier drafting the letter myself.” Ned didn’t rest easy at all, combined with all he set out to do. His nights were sleepless and when he slept, his dreams were terrible.

_ Did Bran always have three eyes? _

“Well, I’ll pray for your success,” Robert laughs, “my good-father and Stannis have tried their hardest with those snakes, speaking of Stannis, is your wife still in touch with her sister? Lord Arryn’s widow.” 

“Yes, Cat and Lysa are as close as the days of girlhood.” 

“Stannis wants to foster Lord Arryn’s son at Dragonstone.”

That shocks Ned, what does Stannis hope to achieve by that?

“Lord Tywin has tried and failed on account of Lord Arryn’s widow getting up and leaving. But perhaps your lady can ease her worries on wardship with Stannis.”

“Is Lord Stannis in the capital?” 

“Yes, met with him some hours before sparring with his son. That boy, Ned!” Robert says smiling. Why wasn’t he informed? He specifically asked to be informed once Stannis reached the capital. 

“I can send a missive to Cat, Your Grace. But I cannot guarantee a favorable reply, the lady is after all in mourning.” Robert’s visage droops lowly then. “See that you do, Ned. Jon did a lot for us, defied the craziest son of a bitch for us. It would only be right if we do the same for his son.” That’s the Robert, he knew. The man underneath it all with a heart for the people, misguided sometimes but it was in the right place still. 

“Yes, Your Grace.” 

“Lord Vary seeks an audience, Your Grace.” Ser Meryn says by the flaps of the tent.

“Let him in.” The king replies, shifting in his seat. 

“Your Grace, Lord Hand” The man greets, the space already filling with the scent of flowers and spiced oils.

“It is done, Your Grace.” He says before handing Robert a letter stamped with a familiar sigil. Robert tears into it and reads the fastest Ned has ever seen him, a guffaw erupting from his belly once he’s finished. 

“Good, spider. Someone’s on that pisspoor council is actually making moves.” The letter is thrust into his hands before he can comprehend what it could contain and once the sigil is clear, a black bear against woods of green trees, he does.

House Mormont. His stomach turns as he reads, causing him to regret indulging in the sugary drink earlier. It is signed legibly at the bottom by the King, Lord Varys, and Ser Jorah Mormont. 

He shakes his head. “The slaver is now a spy, I see." The words sharp on his tongue. _ Jeor Mormont deserved a better son. _

“Might I remind Your Grace that Ser Jorah was caught selling people as cargo to Tyroshi slavers. ” 

“There is no pleasing you Ned” Robert replies, purpling as he spoke, “We have a man on the inside of our enemy camp but I need not please you, only make you aware of the plans I have put forth. Ser Jorah’s service will allow me unearth the snakes that threaten my reign.”

Lions, he so desperately wants to correct. 

“Lord Hand,” Lord Varys says, “this is a much easier way to bring treasonous houses to the light. Surely the survival of the boy is funded by some that see our King as an usurper.” 

“It is without honor, my lord. Especially with the instrument you’re using. Will the deed of slavery, go unpunished? The North will not be placated Robert.” 

“I fought for the North Ned! Or don’t you remember? When that inbred Prince took Lyanna from me, when his mad father demanded our heads after murdering your father and brother. The North will accept Ser Jorah, Lord Hand. I am the King of the Seven Kingdoms and the North is one of those seven.”

“It is done Lord Hand. Now we wait and see.” Lord Varys says as he turns to leave.

~***~

It’s too bloody hot to wear a cloak

After leaving the courtyard and Robert, he found himself unsettled and decided to roam the streets of steel for a reprieve. His guards were never far behind, they made certain, and yet it seemed that both men were oblivious to the figure that had trailed them for the past hour. He wasn’t worried at first either but the way; they maneuvered between the crowds to keep him at a viewing distance, confirmed that their sights were on him. 

_ Did Robert send you? Was it the queen or the spider? _

He would speak to them, he decided. Unearth the reason why they trailed him and for whom. He took a sharp turn left into an open market, stalls littered both sides of the street, selling different diverse wares from garments to jewellery to tins to strange beasts in cages to food- bowls of runny brown chunky meal. 

“Something for ya lady, milord” one called, hands reaching out to pull him. 

“Hands to yourself” Hullen spat, smacking the offensive limb. 

“No, none of that Ser.” Ned cautioned, turning in the direction of the trader. The hand was a woman’s, and she sold tin wares, bowls and spoons formed and shiny under the glare of the sun. He noticed the three children that sat with her in the stall. Under little shade from the heat, they looked sickly thin with yellow skin. _ These were Robert’s people. _None older than ten years. 

“How much for the tin?” It was a plain dish that could serve any purpose in his solar, he supposed, but it was shiny enough now to be a mirror. The figure was just behind his guards, speaking to a stall owner and exchanging some coins for leather sacks before turning to him. Ned felt his heart lurch at the sight of eyes, he’d never hoped to see again but prayed diligently to. Mirth danced in them as her lips curved into a smile. 

“Would you be buying then, milord?” the seller asked meekly, shifting on her feet. He’d stood here for too long, preventing others from purchasing her wares even his guards looked tired where they stood.

“Yes” he cleared his throat, “your finest dozen please.” He looked back. She was still there, pinching the cheeks of a babe at the hip of the trader. His heart proclaimed no finer sight. 

_No!_ _I said my vows. My wife is in Winterfell with my heir. _

“Here ya go, milord” He groaned as one child pushed a basket of tin dishes into his hands. He'd paid heftily, from the thanks the seller heaped onto him, but it was the least he could do. 

“Hullen, see that you return these to my solar at once.” 

“My lord?” The guard questioned. 

“I have an arrangement, ..., and my sword. I’ll meet you for supper.” Protest was at the tips of their tongues, but under his stern stare, they buckled and left. She still stood tall by the stall. The cloak did a terrible job of hiding the curves of her body. He mapped them out once with his fingers and later his tongue. 

“My lady” he greeted when she made her way to him. Her hair was bound under the cowl, he saw, a velvet strap, and her dress drab, not a jewel in sight. _ She loved her jewels._

“Is the weather not too hot for the cowl? Not a very discreet look.” She could hide in plain sight if she desired, so this was planned. She sought him out. He tried to not be too overjoyed by the realization. 

“Ned" She said, instruments to his ears, "it’s good to see you too. How’s your wife?”

He huffed out a sigh, “Cat is in Winterfell. What are you doing here?”

“I don’t recall being banished from the capital.” She replied with a droll grin, twirling the ends of her glossy hair.

“The relationship between the crown and Dorne are tense at best and preludes to war at most. Are you here as an envoy for Dorne?”

“_Rhonye,_ no. I have business here besides, I wanted to congratulate you on your new position. A loyal hand to a murder of babes and young women.”

“Tywin Lannister did that,” he whispered, suddenly aware of the crowd surrounding them. This was no place to meet. “Where are you staying?" 

“So quick to get me alone, Eddard. Here, I thought you were a husband.” He shivered as her finger traced his jaw, pressing firmly on his beard. 

“I…” he sputtered, removing her hand from him, "I am a husband.”

“Good for you.” she snarled, clucking her tongue.

_He ached to know its taste once more. _ He shook those thoughts away; he needed to leave.

“It was good to see you again Ash” He said, watching her eyes get sad, “Stay safe.” 

~***~

The faint smell of flowers still stained his garment. It shamed him, how easily he was consumed by her. Bereft of all sense, of reason, of honor. He was no Robert, he would not dishonor both his wife and his friend-lady-lover? Whatever she was, it was behind them. Hopefully, he’d remember that when next their paths crossed. 

He returned to the keep and immediately sent for Lord Stannis hoping for a meeting before supper, but the Lord was holed up with the King. And so he opted to wait and focus on the issue of the Dornish for the meantime, sending his guard to retrieve some books from the Grand Maester. Business was too vague of a reason for her visit, she was sneaking around; she was up to something and he didn’t know if it was for Dorne, he could only hope that they would not be on opposing sides again.

_ Why did he care? _

“My Lord!” He stopped in his tracks to see a man running to reach him, heaving with his hands on his knees once he did. After a moment of reprieve, he stood straighter, Ned noticed the pale blue mockingbird pinned to his shirt. 

“My Lord, Lord Baelish invites you and your daughters to sup with him tonight.” 

Brandon was nearly doubling over, a firm hand on Ned’s shoulder. _ If Cat didn't stop me, I would have beat the fool to death. _Was it wise to be in the council of Petyr Baelish? No, Ned didn’t think so but with Lord Stannis with the King till gods know when, perhaps he could learn something from the Master of Coin. 

“Tell your Lord I accept, my daughters will not be joining me.” 

The boy bowed and left.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My new year began today was January wasn't that girl. Working hard on updates. <3

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading, please tell me what you think kindly.


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